Tumble Through Time
by Holberry
Summary: The Mirror of Erised fulfills an eleven-year-old Harry Potter's desire in the strangest of ways. Suddenly thrust into the past, Harry copes with getting to know a newly dating James Potter and Lily Evans while Dumbledore figures out how to send him back to his own time. There's only one problem; time travel has many repercussions and Harry finds himself getting…younger.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: **_I'll always apologise in advance for any errors so: sorry. And try and enjoy._  
**Disclaimer:** _I don't own anything. All belong to darling J.K Rowling.  
_**Summary:** _The Mirror of Erised fulfills an eleven-year-old Harry Potter's desire in the strangest of ways. Suddenly thrust into the past, Harry copes with getting to know a newly dating James Potter and Lily Evans while Dumbledore figures out how to send him back to his own time. There's only one problem; time travel has many repercussions and Harry finds himself getting…younger.  
_

**A Tumble through Time:**

**Prelude**

Lit by thousands and thousands of levitating candles, the Great Hall of Hogwarts was a welcoming sight. The four House tables were stretched out, looking immaculate as ever with their shiny plates and glimmering goblets. Most staff were already seated upon the dais, their familiar faces as friendly as the Headmaster's twinkling blue eyes.

James Potter felt a pang of sadness; this would be his last year at Hogwarts, an end of a Marauding era.

Hazel eyes darting across Gryffindor table, he glanced at his friends with fondness. They really hadn't changed over the school years, all of them currently reverting to how they once did during their first year. Remus Lupin, nicknamed Moony, was smiling up at the bewitched, starry-night ceiling while Peter Pettigrew, known as Wormtail, seemed as jittery and nervous as ever. Sirius Black, their good old Padfoot, was even scribbling on a scrap of parchment, undoubtedly plotting a new prank.

Swallowing thickly, James felt a little awkward. This was his last year, he had been awarded Head boy. It was time to knuckle down and avoid any repeats of last year. While saving Snape from Sirius' prank last year had turned the tables between himself the Lily, it wasn't worth a repeat. After all, the young woman had warmed up to him, seen his less immature side and…well, they had been owling each other a lot over the summer just gone.

Even now, listening to McGonagall call forth the first years to the Sorting Hat, he was seated shoulder to shoulder with Lily Evans, fellow Head student. It was a situation James had never thought to come true let alone the fact she had said yes to dating him. They were, officially, going out. It was more nerve wracking and thrilling than any Quidditch match he had been –

''Stop daydreaming, Potter,'' the soft, feminine tone tickled his ear. It was mildly chiding and somewhat teasing. The mention of his surname spoke in amusement, not anger.

James face his face heat, a grin blooming across his features. He regarded the speaker, Lily, and fought teenage urges in favour of slyly taking a hold of her hand under the table. Heart fluttering, he breathed a sigh of relief at the comforting, if not shy, squeeze against his fingers. Dating wasn't a new experience, but dating a long-term school crush was new. The ground in their relationship was still tentative and unsteady given its early days. The last thing James wanted to do was mess it up over something as trivial not paying attention to new Gryffindor's entering the ranks.

''Sorry,'' he spoke above a new round of applause. ''Guess I really can't keep you out my mind, Lils.''

The cheeky comment earned him a blush and a playful jab in the ribs. James gave a small snort of laughter, astonished that she wasn't reprimanding him. Instead, Lily was shaking her head and smiling, her beautiful green eyes darting between Headmaster Dumbledore's arrival at the podium and James' own eyes. She was still the feisty first year he had once known, but a far cry from the fourteen-year-old who used to shout insults about his 'big, fat arrogant head' and flounce off.

Dear Merlin, James thought as he stared at her. He was falling so fast, so hard, for Lily Evans…

''This year is gonna get real boring, real fast if you two are going to go all gooey eyed whenever together, '' Sirius spoke up, amused.

Remus smiled softly, adding, ''be nice, Padfoot. Be grateful you didn't see them in the prefect's carriage after she said yes…''

''Moony!'' James yelped.

Sirius' grin went practically feral. ''Oh? All alone in the prefect's compartment? Well, you two don't waste any time, do you?''

''Not like _that_,'' Remus amended. ''James returned with Lily looking fit to burst.''

''No I did not!'' he protested, only to have Lily chime in.

''You did look ready to cry, love.''

James gawked at his friends before swiveling to fully face Lily. ''Wha – Lily,'' he gasped, falsely hurt, ''you're ganging up on _me_ too?''

A round of laughter followed suit, both from his friends and newly appointed girlfriend. It filled James with a sense of rightness and contentment that was somewhat indescribable. He wove his and Lily's fingers together, a mismatch of anxious yet joyful emotions continuing to bubble since she had said yes on the train.

''Hush now, James,'' Lily said, her voice pulling him out of his thoughts.

Peter sniggered, ''do as Lily says James.''

Concealing his amusement, he kicked Wormtail from under the table. The chubby boy jumped in his seat from the action, the clatter of plates and goblets making the surrounding, younger students giggle. Nevertheless, James looked back at Lily who appeared mildly abashed and inclining her head inclining towards the podium where – Ah. Dumbledore had stopped talking, his blue eyes peering over the frames of his half-moon spectacles. Thankfully, the aging wizard didn't keep his silent reprimand for long and, with a growing smile, continued his speech.

''Now, without any further interruptions,'' Albus Dumbledore's genial voice filled the Great Hall. ''I believe I was in the middle of finishing notifications. As I began to mention before, Caretaker Filch has brought it to my attention that – ''

The Great Halls doors swung open, cutting the Headmaster short.

A kind of ripple crossed the Great Hall as a few heads turned in the direction of the noise: a boy. James, along with every face in the Hall looked at the unexpected youth before flicking back to face Dumbledore. Only James, and a few others from other tables, glanced back at the stranger. It was only then, during this second glance, did he truly look at the kid.

Looking no older than ten, the stranger reminded James of the many pictures of himself as a child given the black, messy hair and circular, wire-framed glasses. Still, any close link of familial relation was impossible. Besides, after the initial similarities, James found the young stranger scrawnier and shorter than most Potters had been during such an estimated age. Plus, the Potter noted, the lost-looking intruder was obviously Muggle. The child was absent of robes, his attire of overly large, Muggle-style jeans, grimy-looking trainers and a thick, emerald green jumper complete with a large, golden H.

''Uh-oh,'' Sirius sing-songed, breaking the silence.

The Hall broke out in a low rise of whispers from both staff and students. James didn't miss the way McGonagall had stood up, practically hovering by Dumbledore while the Headmaster in question held a blank, unreadable expression. Over the growing noise and shared frowns, Sirius nudged Peter and carried on with a chuckle.

''I think somebody followed their big brother or sister.''

Lily looked aghast at such a theory while Peter let out a titter of amusement. James shot his two friends a glare, a silent warning to not upset Lily's sensitive side with teasing comments. Remus, on the other hand, was oddly silent and less reprimanding, his gold gaze darting between James and the stranger. The Head Boy knew his werewolf friend long enough to recognize such a curious expression and assumed Remus was linking the similarities that James himself had spotted.

Yet, just as was James was going to correct Remus' wrong assumptions, Dumbledore clapped his hands, once. The sharp noise silenced the building noise and James blinked, baffled and more than a little curious as the man bid them all to eat before swiftly leaving the podium. For the first time in his entire Hogwarts education, James didn't dive into the freshly appeared food and, instead, watched Dumbledore head towards the young stranger who was gawking directly at James Potter as if he had seen a ghost.

* * *

In the dark gloom of an unused classroom, Harry Potter stared into the mysterious, gold-framed mirror. He couldn't get enough of the reflection; the sight of his parents alive and smiling. His mum's eyes were so much like his own and his dad – he had his dad's hair and nose. Looking at them both and comparing his inherited traits filled him with a joy as well as a powerful ache.

It was a hollow pang of longing that won though. Harry had felt it his whole life, but now it felt intensified when looking at a life he would never have. Swallowing thickly, the eleven-year-old huddled closer to the smooth, cool glass until he was pressed up against it, wishing he could fall right through it and –

The solid surface rippled beneath his hands, the view of his family relatives dissolving almost as instantly as the surface turned fluid. Harry tumbled forward from the lack of support, his body slipping into the mirror. A bitter coldness washed over him, the air leaving his lungs in a whoosh. It was like being dunked into a pool of frigid water; a sharp sting of coldness followed by breathlessness.

However as soon as the sensation came, it left. The young boy found himself falling flat on his hands and knees, his palms scraping painfully against the rough, stone floor. He looked up, glasses askew, and realized he hadn't gone anywhere; he was in the same, musty room.

Except the mirror was gone, Harry immediately noticed.

Getting to his feet, he winced at the state of his scraped up palms and peered around. As startling as it had been to topple through the mirror surface, Harry assumed he had imagined the whole thing. The mirror has probably vanished; something which was a common occurrence with food and various items around Hogwarts. Perhaps, the boy concluded, his recent discovery was one of them.

With that in mind, Harry kept his father's invisibility cloak in hand and exited the room. He kept an eye out for Snape and Filch as he wove his way out the darkened library and into the corridor. The corridor was lighter than usual, the torches unlit yet natural light from the windows offering enough illumination.

Had morning already come and gone?

''How long was I in there?'' Harry uttered to himself.

Scampering forward to the nearest window, the boy slipped onto his tiptoes and looked outside. The sight that greeted him caused a small flutter of panic; while darkened by approaching nightfall, the sky wasn't as dark as before and the snow…the thick snow that blanketed the grounds this Christmas was gone.

The world outside was almost as foreign as the eerily empty corridors he was currently in. How long had he been staring into that mirror for the time of day to change and snow to disappear? Days or weeks?

…_Months?_

The latter thought made his stomach flip and feet automatically break out into a run. Harry didn't think twice about heading in the nearest place he'd find his friends: the Great Hall. It didn't take long to get there and, upon approach, the familiar, joyous timber of Dumbledore's voice vibrated through the towering, double-doors.

Barreling forth, Harry pushed open the doors, eager for some familiarity. Immediately his gaze locked onto that of Dumbledore standing behind the podium upon the dais. He didn't take long to focus upon the Headmaster though, not when his eyes drifted to the mixture of Professors seated at their usual location. Whatever relief Harry had felt upon spotting Dumbledore faltered at the mismatch of unfamiliar staff.

Dumbledore, McGonagall and Flitwick were the only faces he recognized, and Harry didn't waste time for scanning Gryffindor's table. Even there, amongst the rows of staring faces, Ron and Hermione were absent. It was only then, with clawing panic and visibly gawking, did Harry notice the little changes: Professor McGonagall looked younger, the school uniform included blazers beneath robes and…

And that young man – more an older boy, really – looked the spitting image of his Dad, James Potter.

* * *

''Well, hello there,'' Albus Dumbledore greeted his uninvited guest upon approach.

''But…I…that's my – I mean, I think.''

The little stranger was a bundle of nerves, babbling and undoubtedly in shock. Albus reacted with instinct and steered the boy by his thin shoulders into the corridor. Only then, from physically moving the boy from his wide-eyed stare at seventh year, James Potter, did the child look at him. A set of intense, bespectacled green eyes looked up at him with such relieved familiarity that it shocked him into momentarily silence.

''Pro…Professor Dumbledore?''

It was a thin, brittle call; a wail that made Dumbledore's heart twist. The unknown boy, a little James-Potter-with-green-eyes, appeared to know him. How though, Albus would find out. Still, he kindly directed the child further out the corridor and towards his office with silent speculation.

Any worries of the youth's surprise appearance and possible, dark affiliation was practically non-existent. Those eyes held no bad intentions. Even the visible curse scar didn't seem particularly threatening. It was only the unidentifiable, powerful magic was clinging to the boy and over all identity that left Albus at a loss. He had so many questions that he felt practically giddy. But first…

''Jelly tot?'' he offered the child.

''What?''

''I've taken to indulging Muggle sweets,'' Albus cheerily explained. He revealed the small, plastic bag filled with said sweets. ''Care to try…?''

''Uh, no…''

Now that seemed to waken the boy out his mild stupor. Dumbledore offered the lost-looking youth a smile, all the while letting slip a softly spoken, 'ice mice' to the gargoyle concealing his office stairway. The stranger followed him up, a frown creasing his young features when facts seemed to finally click together.

''You know me, right, Sir?''

Lips twitching, Albus replied, ''I'm afraid not, child. But you do seem to know me.''

''I'm Harry,'' the dark-haired youth spoke up, desperation evident. ''Harry Potter.''

Taking a seat behind his desk, Albus silently scrutinized Harry further. He knew for a fact the only Potters alive were James' parents, a couple far too old to reproduce even by Wizarding standards. Still, he tilted his head and let out a sigh.

''And what are you, Harry Potter, doing here?''

''I go to school here,'' Harry sputtered. ''I started this September but…but everything is all wrong. It was Christmas and snowy, but the snow is gone and the students…I didn't see Ron or 'Mione at the Gryffindor table. Sir, I didn't even see Professor Snape at the staff table and I swear, I mean, I think I spotted my…''

''Your?'' Albus prodded.

''My…my Dad. ''

Reclining in his seat, the Headmaster twiddled with the end of his beard. He absorbed the information given, his mind churning over possibilities and thought out questions. No way could this boy – supposedly eleven years old, not ten – be partaking in a farce. Harry's open grief and disbelief was real, his expression set in creased turmoil.

''Christmas,'' Albus opted to start for. ''Well, Harry, Christmas is a good three months from now. Today is September the first, a far cry from December…and I have never hired a Snape as my staff, yet.''

Harry opened his mouth, once, twice, but never spoke up. Albus decided to interrupt such floundering, his own curiosity building.

''May I ask who your parents are, young Potter?''

''James and Lily Potter, sir.''

Ah-ha…He had thought as much. Harry was a little carbon copy of his father, but those eyes…only Lily Evans had those eyes. Such a simple answer of the child's parentage aided so much of his own confusion. The peculiar, indecipherable magic clinging to Harry, the described mention of seasonal change, and the sheer fact James Potter and Lily Evans were seventeen; it all added up. Harry Potter had done something astounding and rare. The boy had traveled back in time. It was the only explanation that fit and Dumbledore was eager to hear all about it.

A smile spread across the Headmaster's face, it seemed his Head boy and Head girl were in for an interesting start of their final year.


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: **_Thank you for the positive responses and reviews. They do make the chapters easier to churn out. _  
**Disclaimer:** _I don't own anything. All belong to darling J.K Rowling.  
__  
_

**A Tumble through Time:**

**Introductions**

''Are you sure this is okay, sir?''

''Of course, my boy, of course!''

''What if – ''

''Harry, I shall personally research into this intriguing outcome of your interaction with the Mirror of Erised. For the mean time, I suggest you gain a positive experience here. You keep what we've talked about to yourself and fret not about the details of returning home.''

''No, it's not that. I'm not worried about going back, uh, home, I mean. It's just…'' Harry trailed off, his eyes dipping to the ground.

His mind was still reeling from his lengthy, exhaustive talk with Dumbledore. How the Headmaster was taking this time-travel business in his stride, he didn't know. He had told the man all he could; from snippets of his own life and his parent's demise to his encounter with the strange Mirror. Yet there the man was, walking ahead of him in a flutter of violet, star-designed robes and cheerfully urging him to get to know the teenage version of his parents.

Caught up in his thoughts, Harry barely noticed that the Headmaster had stopped walking and narrowly bumped into him. Halting in his tracks, he looked up at the elderly adult and his sympathetic blue eyes. It seemed Dumbledore had gathered what he had been truly worried out: would his Mum and Dad like him?

Feeling a bit embarrassed, Harry shifted his attention elsewhere, his eyes avoiding the Headmaster's soft, pitying expression. Going back to his own, parent-less time was the least of Harry's worries. There would be nothing worse in the world than to discover his parents didn't like him. Because, right now, they wouldn't know he was their son, they wouldn't feel an obligated or bond by blood to like him. If they didn't like Harry now, be they teenagers or not, his Mum and Dad were essentially not liking him as a person.

''Less of such negativity, please,'' Dumbledore spoke up, his hand dropping onto his shoulder.

Unable to speak, Harry could only nod. He felt tight-chested and weepy over such thoughts. He wasn't being a baby, honest. He was just…tired. It was almost ten-thirty at night, and all this change was exhausting.

''It'll all work out fine, you'll see. You should be back before Christmas and there is no sense in making you attend classes you've probably already covered. Best enjoy yourself, my boy,'' Dumbledore carried on, his tone brightening along with his smile. ''I've placed a few essentials, plus your inherited cloak, into a trunk. You'll be staying in one of the seventh year dorms with your – James Potter.''

Harry perked up. ''Isn't that weird, a first year in a seventh year dorm?''

But the Headmaster just waved him off, a twinkle back in his eyes and a spring in his step. Harry couldn't help but feel a little optimistic, Dumbledore's cheery attitude leaking off and into him. The old man really hadn't changed much, still as odd and friendly as ever, the obsession of Lemon Drops having yet to come. Grinning, Harry trotted alongside the elder on their journey to Gryffindor Tower, his eyes taking in the minor changes around the castle.

It was so surreal; so familiar yet so different. He had already met Professor McGonagall who had been informed of his situation. The woman hadn't stopped staring at him during their brief meeting, and Harry was no better. She still looked stern, but the lacking of grey in her hair and fainter wrinkles up close happened to catch his attention.

''Pig whiskers,'' Dumbledore said upon standing in front of the Fat Lady's portrait.

The portrait swung open with ease and Headmaster stepped through the circular hole first. Harry followed suit and, peeking around Dumbledore's wiry frame, beamed at the familiar, homely sight of the Gryffindor common room. The sight of the squashy armchairs, crackling fireplace and scarlet banners draping circular walls eased the ache in his heart almost immediately.

Until a sudden, startled gasp and a light thump diverted Harry's attention.

Staring towards the far wall and between the two doors leading off from the common room that housed the separate, spiral staircases leading to the boys' or girls' dormitory, there was a plush-looking loveseat. Almost immediately Harry recognized his seventeen-year-old mother, Lily Evans seated primly upon the seat with his father, James, sprawled upon the floor. It was a confusing sight, and Harry furrowed his brow as a flustered looking Lily kept straightening her school skirt while a startled, yet equally flushed James Potter practically began to grumble.

''Bloody hell, Lils. You didn't have to kick me off. If I was going too fast you only had – !''

''Professor Dumbledore,'' Lily interjected, catching James off guard.

Now that, be it was greeting or explanation, got his father to look towards their direction. Harry stayed silent, mildly confused at what they had interrupted. If anything, the boy was more awed at the nearby proximity he was now to his young parents. This wasn't like the Great Hall, this wasn't a distant glance; here he was close enough that he could truly pick apart the details of his parents he had seen in their older selves, in photographs or the mirror.

Dumbledore chuckled. ''How nice it is to see our Head boy and Head girl getting along so, _so_ _well_.''

Harry stopped staring at his parents at that comment. Getting along? What…where they? Had his parents been…_snogging?_

Harry wrinkled his nose. Ew. At eleven, kissing and girls was something he couldn't comprehend ever wanting. Hermione didn't count as a girl, no matter how many times Ron whined. But walking in on his parents looking like that sixth year, Ravenclaw couple he had once spotted kissing in the library turned his stomach. Double ew.

* * *

''I..erm.''

Lily couldn't find any words, her face almost as red as her hair. Gods, she was mortified. There she had been getting the daylights snogged out of her by Potter. She groaned, her hands self-consciously continuing to brush off the imaginary wrinkles in her school uniform. What had been a giddy exchange of soft kisses after getting the new first years settled and the slow, emptying of remaining students leaving the common room had turned sour.

''Hi Professor,'' James cheerily spoke up, getting to his feet.

The Head boy looked punch drunk with his plastered grin, ruddy cheeks and mussed up hair. If Lily didn't find the look attractive, she would've kicked him elsewhere as opposed to her previous action of kicking him off. Seeing your aging Headmaster mid-kiss wasn't an experience she'd like to repeat anytime soon. It also didn't help matters that…_Oh._ Lily closed her eyes, torn between laughter and anger. There was a boy with Professor Dumbledore. Great. She was being a perfect example of Head girl already in front of her Headmaster and an innocent, wide-eyed child who couldn't possibly be a first year yet.

''Hello there, Mr. Potter, Miss Evans,'' Dumbledore greeted.

Slipping into a standing position, she tried to regain some decorum. ''What can we do for you, sir?''

''Is something wrong?'' James added, and Lily didn't miss the way he zeroed in on the Headmaster's company. ''Hey,'' he continued, ''you're that kid who interrupted the welcoming speech.''

''James,'' Lily hissed lowly.

Why did she agree to date him? He had no tact. Couldn't he see how shyly overwhelmed the boy was? At least he had the decently to look abashed, an apologetic smile tugging at his features. James stepped forth, tugging Lily along and closer to the duo. She had completely forgot about the interruption at the Great Hall amongst her Head girl duties of meetings, greetings and personal involvement with other prefects. But now, being able to see the stranger who had cut the Headmaster's speech short and caused a ruckus of rumors, she was surprised.

The child reminded her a little of Sev…_Snape_, she silently corrected. Aside from the obviously hand-knitted jumper, everything about the boy's clothing reminded her of Snape, back when they were young and friends. Unkempt and dressed in hand-me-down clothing and a cheap set of glasses; it made her want to protect him from any teasing. Yet his uncared for appearance wasn't what astonished her. No, it was the young boy's features that made her understand why Sirius had been calling the unknown boy 'Baby Prongs', Prongs being the nickname for James given his Animagus form. At first, she shrugged it off. Back in the Great Hall she hadn't seen much aside from circular glasses and messy black hair, something she assumed that led to Sirius and Peter's growing amusement. Yet, now, seeing the Muggle-clothed boy up close, Lily found herself fascinated.

The stranger was a little James, except the eyes.

Although rounded with baby fat, Lily could already see similar features of James in the boy. Still, James had once mentioned during their long letters over the summer that all Wizarding families were interlinked. So, she supposed, it wouldn't be a huge surprise for such physical similarities. Nevertheless, they both made a point of smiling at the silent, solemn-eyed boy; James even going further to bend in his towering posture and extend his hand. Seeing them side by side only amplified their similarities and she had to swallow a giggle.

With those eyes and James' looks I can see Sirius calling this kid James and I's lovechild, she inwardly mused.

''Hey, I'm James Potter,'' the older male introduced. ''And that,'' he nodded towards her, ''is my Lily Flower, Lily Evans.''

''_'That'_,'' Lily repeated, teasingly reprimanding in tone, ''can introduce herself. Hi…What's your name?''

''Uh. Harry,'' the boy all but blurted, obviously nervous. ''Hi I'm Harry Po –''

''Porter,'' Dumbledore interjected, catching all three by surprise. ''Mr. Porter here is a special case,'' he began. ''Due to a few mishaps at home he'll be staying here at Hogwarts for a few months. Now, while I know you two have enough on your plate being your final year and all, but I would like to personally ask you to keep Harry in your care...''

''Care?'' James didn't sound very happy with that.

Lily sighed, reminding herself that her new love had changed, and questioned. ''Shall I get Harry settled in with the other first years then, Headmaster?''

''Oh no, my dear girl,'' Dumbledore shook his head, smiling. ''Harry would be best suited away from the melodramas of first year hassle. He'll be spending his time exploring higher elements of our education, occasionally joining you in classes and receiving some private tutoring. If you two could simply keep an eye on our young, temporary Gryffindor charge, I'd be delighted. In fact, I've already sorted a temporary extension and bed in Mr. Potter's dorm…''

Knowing how much James and his fellow Marauders valued the safety of their dormitory away from 'outsiders', Lily cringed. Flicking her green eyes over to James' guarded hazel, she assumed her boyfriend was simply worried about an invasion of privacy. Undoubtedly, James wasn't impressed to share a room with Harry; the boy was young, early bedtimes would happen and more mature conversation and swearing would have be avoided. However, Lily had a feeling it was mainly Remus, and his furry problem, that James was more focused upon in keeping hidden from the child.

''…that'll be fine, right James?'' she asked, her hand curling around his own.

Frown dissolving, the Head boy's shoulders lost their tenseness. ''Yeah,'' he nodded, both at her and the Headmaster. ''Yeah,'' James repeated, firm in his resolve and mildly cheery. ''It'll be fun, right, Porter?''

Watching James reach out with his unoccupied hand to ruffle the messy hair upon their newest Gryffindor's head, Lily laughed. It was a mix of relief and amusement left Lily in a titter of laughter, both at James' friendly response and Porter's reaction. The small boy gave a singular flinch, his body going taut until James' large hand continued to muss up his hair in a playful, brotherly action. Lily would've been worried at such a response if the preteen didn't break out into a bashful grin and melt under the affection like a puppy before telling them both:

''Call me Harry. Not Porter. Just Harry.''

Smiling, Lily barely noticed Dumbledore heading towards the portrait hole. She was too preoccupied by James' thumb running across her knuckles as she looked into an equally green yet bespectacled set of eyes.

''Well, _Just Harry_,'' she laughed, ''let's get you introduced to your dorm mates, hm?''

* * *

Remus looked up from his timetable, silently taking note of his free periods. He had a lot of free time this year, something that didn't necessarily bother him. Independent study was something he often preferred. Opening a small, maroon-leather book the young werewolf began to set up a check list of what he needed to refresh his mind about in the lead up to exams. They might've been months upon months away, but it was best to plan, get a head start –

''I don't like this, Sirius,'' Peter's voice cut through Remus' concentration, once again.

''Tell me 'bout it, Wormy. A new bed, a new person.''

''We've had a dorm all to ourselves, why now?!''

Huffing, Remus gave up on the task and hand and looked up from his location upon his bed. Peter seated on the rug center of the room and already making a mess by going through the contents of his trunk while Sirius loomed over the recently added bed and trunk. Remus had lost track of the time the two had been talking, the topic dragging on and on despite his soft spoken inputs. He loved his friends dearly yet, when it came to Peter and Sirius, the pair fed their displeasure from each other. And, just sometimes, Remus thought Peter knew what he was doing when winding Sirius up…

Like right now, Remus realized, Sirius was glowering down at the nameless trunk at the foot of the new bed. He knew the older boy was going to unlock it and rifle through whatever belongings the poor sod had packed. Remus cringed; Padfoot would undoubtedly ruin a few things in a bid to scare their new roommate off. So, in an effort to stall the inevitable as well as avoid another argument from a frustrated Sirius, Remus brought forth a theory.

''Maybe the house elves made a mistake, Padfoot. We didn't see any new seventh years, did we?''

Sirius frowned. ''I suppose...''

''That's because he isn't a seventh year, Moony.''

Three Marauders turned towards the familiar, bemused voice that unexpectedly entered their conversation. Remus let out a relieved sigh, the sight of James always made it slightly easier to control Sirius' impulsive actions. The Head boy stepped through the door, his broad shoulders and tall, thin frame barely making Lily, who was trailing behind, visible. It was only Remus who spotted the fiery red-head, his bed being closest to the doorway and giving him the best view. The same, however, couldn't be said for Sirius, who was standing before his own bed, farthest from the doorway and opposite the new, unused bed near-by James' own.

''Prongsy!'' Sirius greeted, a cackle entering his voice. ''Back so soon? Didn't get very lucky with Lily– _Ow!_''

A chuckle broke forth from Remus' lips, accompanied by others. He had seen Lily, once crossing the threshold, fire an obvious Toe Biting Jinx at the young Black. If anyone keep them all in line, James included, it was her. He watched Sirius yelp and hop about on his left foot, his grey eyes widening at James' frown and Lily's appearance.

Lily twirled her wand looking pleased. ''Do go on, Black.''

''Heh, sorry,'' Sirius smirked.

Peter snorted, ''you should've seen your face.''

A heavy DADA textbook went hurling across the room, courtesy of Sirius' hand, and smartly whacked the short blonde onto the back. Peter wheezed from the impact, a sputtering of crude insults leaving his crooked toothed-mouth as Lily and James entered the room further. Remus rubbed at his brow, a headache brewing and, he blinked, his dark honey-coloured eyes landing on the small, skinny figure trailing behind Lily. It was the boy from the Great Hall, the one Sirius had dubbed as –

''Baby Prongs!''

Wincing at Sirius' enthusiastic shout, Remus shared a worn, withering glance with Lily. James looked as equally unimpressed, if not somewhat amused, while Peter's eyes narrowed at the new comer. Sirius, on the other hand, had stopped shaking the sting out of his toes and moved closer to the bewildered 'Baby Prongs'.

''Bloody hell,'' Sirius whistled. ''I was only teasing but, well, _look _at you. You really are a Baby Prongs, Baby Prongs!''

''_Harry_, his name his Harry Porter,'' Lily stressed, her arm automatically draping across the small boy's shoulders. ''He'll be staying here with you lot. So be nice. And – '' she shot a glare at Sirius, ''mind your language.''

James scratched at the back of his head, awkwardly elaborating, ''Dumbledore made Lils and I responsible. Should be only for a few months. So…yeah.''

''Are you even old enough to be in Hogwarts?'' Peter piped up.

Sirius continued to gape at Harry. ''Sure you're a Po_rt_er, not a Po_tt_er?''

''Yes...I mean, no. I, uh, I'm…I am eleven.'' Harry looked stunned at the sudden inquisition.

As tactless as ever, Remus opted to redeem his friends failing qualities and bluntness. He slid off his bed and proffered his hand to the stunted, James-esque preteen. Porter looked downright surprised at such a simple interaction before, ever so timidly, accepting the handshake. The werewolf gave a reassuring smile, the sensation of that small, clammy hand in his own somehow soothing the on-coming headache. It seemed Porter wouldn't be a loud, reckless lad – a far cry from the young men he shared a room with.

''Remus Lupin, and pleasure to meet you, Porter,'' Remus said. ''Feel free to call me, Remus.''

''Hi, I prefer being calle –''

''Alright there, HarBear,'' the dog Animagus practically swooped in, interjecting Harry and pulling the boy away from Lily's side. ''You've just met our bookworm, Remus, and Mr. and Mrs-to-be-Potter in the making. But I'm the ever handsome Sirius Black and that's Peter Pettigrew over there,'' he waved an arm towards Wormtail, his voice dipping into a stage whisper, ''Peter has a habit of farting in his sleep, so I apologies on his behalf in advance.''

Peter gave an indignant protest over such a comment while Harry, who had been oozing uptight nervousness, visibly relaxed. In fact, Remus noted, the boy let out a brief giggle; a small act that made Remus happier knowing the eleven-year-old seemed more at ease. Already, Harry was appearing more comfortable amongst them, no longer edging his way back to Lily or a near-by James. It wasn't much of a surprise, really…

If anyone could ease a situation with humor, it was Padfoot.

* * *

A tad overwhelmed, Harry was more than grateful when his Dad- no, _James,_ steered him towards the direction of his bed. He happily complied, his hands automatically flitting towards the trunk Dumbledore had provided. Meeting the selection of mismatch friends the older Potter was obviously close with had been almost as nerve wracking as seeing his parents in the flesh. Already he had a good feeling about goofball Sirius. And Remus too; the lanky, amber-eyed male seemed nice, if a little bit polite, like Hermione. Even Peter had offered him a small wave.

All three males seemed so close to his father and mother that it made Harry wonder why he hadn't met them before. Surely, back in the future, they_ all_ couldn't have died during the war? One or two had to be alive. Couldn't they have taken him in, not the Dursleys, after his parent's death?

Internally shrugging his questions aside, Harry opted to busy himself, barely listening to Sirius' continued banter with the others. Instead, he rummaged through the small selection of clothing, not really looking, but more searching for his father's invisibility cloak. Dumbledore had assured him it had been packed, but he had to make sure. It didn't take long to find, tucked into a barely visible compartment at the bottom, along with a velvet pouch and a small note. Harry huddled further over his trunk until he was practically in it, mindful of watchful eyes and Dumbledore's warning to keep his cloak, along with various information, hidden.

Nonetheless, the boy unfolded the small note, the flowery cursive informing him that_, 'A shopping trip might be in order later in the week, so here's a small sum of spends. – Just in case, Albus Dumbledore.'_ Curious, Harry opened the provided pouch, and gaped. Wizards, or maybe just Dumbledore, really had no sense with Muggle money. The Headmaster had stuffed a rolled up wad of numerous fifty-pound notes that would make his Uncle Vernon salivate at the amount. Even the galleons, almost five hundred, and handful of sickles and knuts was a ridiculous amount for a few clothes or essentials.

Maybe, when he got back to the future, he could pay Dumbledore back?

''-arry? Harry?'' The call of his name by his _– Lily,_ not Mum, Lily, garnered his attention. Snapping the hidden compartment shut, Harry peered up at the red-head nearing him. She looked fondly down at him, her brief frown from repeating his name smoothing out as she spoke, softly. ''In a world of your own, aren't you?'' Lily beamed. ''You must be exhausted. Best get into your pajamas and some sleep.''

The gentle suggestion made Harry's stomach flip with warmth. Aside from Hermione nagging both him and Ron to get to bed before 9PM, he hadn't experienced being 'sent to bed' before. Well, sort of. Uncle Vernon's rough handling by tossing him into his cupboard, or Aunt Petunia's screeching to 'get to bed' didn't really count. Not like this.

''Hey,'' Sirius called out. ''Leave our HarBear be, Evans. It's not even midnight yet.''

''James,'' Lily huffed, clearly exasperated.

''I can sort this, Lils. Don't worry, I think Harry is smart enough not to listen to Sirius.''

He didn't think twice about doing as he was told after taking a peek at his father, who was grinning upon the bed beside Harry's own and in the middle of removing his shoes. The group seemed to tease each other a lot, something Harry wasn't overly accustomed to with his own friends. Either way, it didn't matter as Harry let the noise of laughter and his mother's chiding wash over him. Reaching into his trunk, he sifted through the clothing provided by Dumbledore. Flipping past the standard, yet changed from the one he knew, uniform, he paused. While crisp, white shirts and a black robe, complete with Gryffindor crest, remained the same, there was an additional grey blazer to be worn with the trousers and V-neck jumper with house-colored neckline. Aside from that, nothing much was different, and Harry moved on to find something to wear for bed.

Knowing Dumbledore's love for quirky or bright things, Harry shouldn't have expected otherwise. But still, looking past a bundle of new underwear, the sight of thick, garishly colorful socks was a bit of a shock. Argyle, starry, striped – you name it, the socks held a decorative design that came in a mixture of loud colors. Thankfully, the pajamas weren't too bad; a selection of baggy white t-shirts accompanied by pajama bottoms that varied between gingham and blue pinstripes.

Snagging a loose shirt and a set of red, gingham bottoms, Harry shut his trunk. He stood up, feeling a tad self- conscious. The whole group, even Lily, were preoccupied again. Sirius was standing beside Remus' bed, being boisterous as ever had he held the disinterested, tawny-haired boy in a headlock. Lily had been half-dragged onto a laughing James' lap, her green eyes set on Sirius as she rebuked the dark haired boy for 'tormenting those better than you'. It was only Peter, still seated on the floor in the middle of the room, who noticed Harry's silent predicament.

''Bathroom's over there,'' Peter informed him with a smile.

Harry uttered a soft thanks and followed where the blond-haired boy jabbed a chubby thumb. He made his way across the large, crimson rug in the center of the room and headed towards the half-open door located between Sirius' and Remus' beds. Slinking into the bathroom, he shut the door and eyed the creamy stone tiles before focusing on the large mirror and duo of sinks opposite him. Padding over to the counter, he spotted a selection of wash items and complimentary, labelled toothbrushes that also included his own.

Turning on the taps, Harry proceeded to get changed, his gaze wandering about the bathroom. It was just like the shared bathroom he had experienced for himself in his shared, first year dormitory. There were two shower stalls to his left and, on the right, an open door revealing a toilet. He went through the process of brushing his teeth and washing his face, the rush of water only just barely drowning out the muffled chatter going on in the other room. Curious and more than a little sneaky, he kept the taps running and edged towards the door. Pressing his ear against the door, he listened into the quietened voices, Sirius' deep chuckle being the first he heard.

''…sure HarBear is eleven? I don't ever remember being that titchy.''

''Don't call him that,'' Lily's worry-tinged tone followed.

Sirius spoke up again. ''It's a _nickname,_ Red. I'm being _nice_.''

''He's just a kid, Padfoot,'' Remus' gentle voice entered the equation. ''He might think you're taking the piss.''

''Well, I'm _not_,'' Sirius sniffed, somewhat offended.

''Good,'' James said. ''Because he's not just an average student. Dumbledore made that much obvious…''

''Yes,'' Remus chimed in, ''I was wondering about that. You mentioned he's here for a few months and, instead of being placed with the other first years, he's with us.''

''Not like they can't make room for him in the first year dorms,'' Peter mumbled.

''The Headmaster mentioned something about stuff happening at home,'' Lily supplied. ''Oh,'' she added, ''that and exploring higher education. Maybe Harry's some sort of home-schooled prodigy? That would explain him being here for a while as well as placed in seventh year…''

Harry very nearly choked out a snort of disbelief at his mother's conclusion. No way was he anywhere near advanced in the realm of magic; he had only learnt such a thing existed barely four months ago. He struggled with his magical studies as a whole, the prospect of even faking to be a prodigy would fail very, very quickly. Unsure whether to laugh or panic at the murmur of agreements he could hear from the bedroom, Harry hastily headed back to the sink to turn off the taps, collect his wand, clothes and shoes.

Upon heading back to the door and opening it, he literally walked in on Peter's poorly whispered question of, ''…why Dumbledore though? Usually McGonagall introduces new house mates.''

An awkward silence followed suit upon his entry, a selection of smiles, most apologetic or tight-lipped meeting him. Making his way back to his bed, he stuffed his clothes away. He needed to nip all this questioning in the bud, especially if it involved Dumbledore. So, without anything further ado, Harry said the easiest thing that came to mind with answering Peter's question.

''He was a friend of my parents.''

There. A simple but true response. Problem solv –

''Was?'' Sirius parroted back.

Ah…Harry bit his lip, face flushing. ''Yes, was,'' he confirmed, all but diving onto his bed. He burrowed under the blankets, purposely tugging them over his face and let out a very quick, albeit forcefully cheery, ''Night!''

A few beats of silence followed before James let out a tentative, questioning, ''Harry…?''

''James, let him sleep,'' Lily's quiet voice was full of warning, yet barely audible.

Peter murmured, none-to-quietly, ''what? Are his parents dead or something?''

Beneath the blankets, Harry winced at the blunt statement. He scrunched his eyes shut, uncaring how his glasses dug into his face from where it was pressed against the pillow. Sitting up and removing his glasses would only draw more attention to himself, something he didn't want right now.

Hopefully, Harry prayed, they'd forget what he said in the morning.


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: **_Huge thanks for support shown in many forms. Your reviews and advice has been, as ever, delightful. Do enjoy._  
**Disclaimer:** _I don't own anything. All belong to darling J.K Rowling.  
__  
_

**A Tumble through Time:**

**Change**

Come early morning the Great Hall was filled with the noises of chattering students and clanging of cutlery. Many students and staff alike were finishing off their breakfast, their attention torn between colleagues or friends and checking they had the correct material for morning classes. Sirius Black was somewhat of an exception, his attention more focused on slurping the sugar-sweetened milk out of his bowl of cornflakes as opposed to upcoming classes. If anything, the eldest of the Marauder foursome was less inclined to double-check his satchel and, instead, remained focused on his best mate's crinkled brow.

Placing his bowl back onto the table, Sirius followed James' frowning expression and held back a chuckle.

The Potter was staring off further down the table where many of the Gryffindor first years resided, his gaze locked solely on an equally dark, messy haired male. Looking between both James and Harry, Sirius wondered what the issue was. Last night had been a little awkward, the unanswered question of Harry Porter being an orphan ringing in all their ears almost as much as Peter's insensitivity to the situation. However, this morning, they had woken up to find Harry absent from their dorm and common room, the only hint of knowing the young boy was okay being Lily confirming she has walked Baby Prongs to the Great Hall.

Unsure of what was going on, Sirius narrowed his eyes. Harry seemed fine right now. The kid was currently wedged between two first years, Cresswell and Walton, smiling. Sirius knew the two young Gryffindors weren't being mean to Harry, the kid was grinning a lot. Plus, he had briefly dated Walton Jr's big sister and Cresswell's older, Hufflepuff sibling was a well-known, friendly fellow who had left Hogwarts the previous year. Still, he couldn't grasp what had James unusually quiet unless…

''Scared Baby Prongs is going to steal your girl?'' he teased, hoping to break the ice.

''Huh?'' James blinked at him.

''I said…'' Sirius paused, and gave a small shake of his shaggy head of hair. ''Never mind,'' he continued, ''you okay, Jamie?''

''Yeah, yeah,'' the Head boy continued to stir his cooling cup of tea, ''just thinking.''

Peter sniggered with a mouthful of buttery toast. ''That's bloody dangerous.''

James just shot the short boy a bland expression before turning his attention to an equally speculative Remus. ''Did Lils say anything to you about Harry?''

''Like what?'' Remus replied, never once looking up from his copy of the Daily Prophet.

''Well, Harry's not sitting with us,'' James mumbled self-consciously.

Sirius felt his eyebrows draw together, his lips pulling down into mild concentration. If he didn't know any better, he'd think Prongs was _fretting_ over their littlest roommate. This was…different. But, then again, a lot was different about James this year. Since saving Snivellus and, now, being given the title of Head boy, James had been particularly responsible, almost oddly so. Briefly, Sirius entertained this growing change with him dating a certain red-haired young lady, but no. Lily entering their dynamic officially hadn't changed much; the girl had always bossed them about, the only change right now was that it was less nag-worthy and more teasing.

Well, _that,_ and Sirius saw less arguing and more lovey-dovey action between Lily and James.

''I think Lily just wanted Harry to meet some people his own age,'' Remus divulged, amber eyes peeping over his paper and looking pointedly into Sirius' own.

A little lost, the Black quirked an eyebrow at the werewolf. What? What did…?

Remus shot a glare towards James who was, by all accounts, looking miserably in deep thought. _Oh!_ Sirius straightened up in his seat. James was worried about Harry. Evan's must be already turning him soft.

''Yeah, mate, I don't think we upset Harry-bean or anything,'' Sirius reassured. ''He even gave me a little wave before.''

''Harry-bean?'' Peter squeaked. ''How many names are you giving this kid?''

The Black shrugged while Remus chuckled, reminding them that, ''He's not a pet, you know.''

''If he was I'd make him eat more,'' James huffed. ''He hasn't even finished his first slice of toast.''

''You've been _watching_ him?'' Sirius spat out, incredulous.

''No,'' the Head boy garbled, ''not really. It's just – well, _look at_ him. He needs to eat more.''

''Just 'cause Dumbledore said you gotta look after Porter it doesn't mean you have to, James,'' Peter said, grouchily. ''The kid's eleven, not five, and if they blame you then – ''

''No, no,'' James interjected. ''It's not that. Sure, he's kind of my responsibility, but it's not that. He's not bad for a firstie. It's just…''

''Just what?'' Sirius asked. He was contemplating to go fetch Harry now if it meant it would stop James' worrisome whining.

''It's well…'' James stalled, not wanting to admit he felt protective of the unkempt child. Instead, he rested his elbows upon the table, took a quick glance at Harry and said the first thing that came into his head. ''Doesn't he look smaller today?''

The response he gained was a trio of baffled expressions, and James felt his face heat. He wasn't Confunded or changing the subject. Not completely the latter, anyway. Maybe just a bit. But Harry _did_ look smaller today. Hell, all first years looked small and fragile but, seriously, James found himself squinting down the table and at Porter…had the boy shrunk a few inches overnight or something?

''What? He _does_ look smaller,'' the Head boy spoke up with a snap.

He stopped looking at Harry and noticed his friends where no longer looking at him, but something past his shoulder. James was about to turn around to see what when soft, warm hands pressed against his forehead and a familiar whiff of soap and petals invaded his senses. It was Lily, he knew that scent and was already becoming accustomed to the sensation of her hands. Yet, just as he was about to turn and gather his girlfriend into a hug, she curled over his back, her voice vibrating through him.

''You don't feel unwell,'' she said, her long hair curtaining James' face. ''What's with the mother hen act?''

Tipping his head back, he ignored the bout of sniggers from his friends and looked up at Lily. She was trying to hide a smile, her failing mask an attempt of blank seriousness as she made a show of patting his cheek. The act ended quickly enough, a sharp bark of amusement leaving her mouth at the sullen expression slipping onto James' face.

''I'm _teasing,_'' she rocked forward, all but folding over him and whispering against the side of his mouth.

Popping a quick peck on her cheek, he smiled. ''I know. Now, how long have you been standing there?''

''Since you began admitting to spying on an eleven-year-old's breakfast intake,'' Lily admitted.

_Real cool, Potter_, James thought with a cringe. First proper day into dating Lily Evans and he was already showing his overbearing, weird side. He sighed, irritated at himself, and noticed his friends had gone back to focusing on breakfast or, in Remus and Sirius' case, arguing over the newspaper.

''He also had a crumpet and two glasses of pumpkin juice, if you must know.''

James shook his head, amused. ''So you're as bad as me, Lils?''

''Probably,'' she admitted further. ''I know we don't know him much, but he's a nice lad. Little shy, a bit sad, but nice.''

Nodding along, James wholly agreed. It was bizarre; Lily was verbalizing most of his thoughts about their Gryffindor guest. He couldn't bring himself to say such thoughts, especially when it came to the strange, strong urge to –

''…kind of want to protect him.''

The confession came from Lily's lips, the words whispered into his hair. Automatically he reached for her hand, happy to know he wasn't the _only_ one feeling that, not because of Dumbledore's say so, but out of sheer instinct. After the slight irritation of having his private space invaded, he just felt like he clicked with Harry. It was a feeling he hadn't experienced since meeting his friends back in first year or, most recently, getting to know Lily Evans beyond her good looks. James could only muse that his emotions were a fumbling mess; he had never been personally responsible for someone before, let alone someone smaller and younger…

Lost in his own relieved thoughts on the matter, James barely realized he had pulled Lily's arm further across his shoulder so that it was dangling across his chest. It was only when he planted a brief, soft kiss on the palm of her hand and let loose a muffled, ''same here,'' did he realize what he had done. Freezing on the spot, James half-expected a punch to the side of his head. Lily might not like that – be it the agreement of being a total soft-hearted fool to a boy he didn't really know, or the mildly intimate and sappy hand-kissing in public.

However, just as James expected his life to flash before his eyes, he felt her rest her chin atop his shoulder. It was only momentarily, barely a few seconds, but his heart was pounding as she let out a contented hum before peeling herself away. Immediately, James missed the warm weight against his back, thinking that she was probably going to return to having breakfast with Alice Turner and Marlene McKinnon. Yet, to his surprise, she delivered light whack hit his upper arm and began to urge him to stand.

''Come on, you big softie,'' the red-head cheerily announced. ''Lets check-in on Harry.''

James didn't need to be asked twice, his only word of departure being, ''catch you in potions'' to his friends. He was so wrapped up in following Lily that he barely registered Remus and Sirius bidding him a, ''farewell, you big softie'' in trilled, poorly feminine tones. Just barely, that is. James subtly used the hand that wasn't held by Lily's own to fire a middle-fingered salute at the canine duo, narrowly missing the raucous bout of laughter he gained in response.

He shrugged it off, his attention swiftly moving back to Lily, completely missing Peter's faint glower.

* * *

Harry's head was spinning, and not in a good way. He had purposely gotten up early, eager to give some space between the seventh years and himself in a bid to avoid any questions about last night's slip up. Yet, this idea failed quickly, as Harry found himself seated by his own age group and feeling ready to snap. Surrounding first years kept asking questions, and with questions came answers Harry could not honestly give. They asked why he had shown up late and why he wasn't in their dorms. Hell, they asked everything and anything, his two flanked companions, Norman Cresswell and Sandra Walton, being the main contenders.

The pair seemed friendly enough, if a little too forward. They reminded him a little of his first meeting with Sirius, only more nosy. Harry had managed to evade most questions, only answering the basics and, stupidly enough, going with his mother's overheard theory. He didn't use the term prodigy, per se. He merely hinted he was ahead in the first-year curriculum, which he technically was, and visiting the school for a taster session. The information only made more questions burst forth, this time from the pupils outside of his vicinity and, in the end, Harry settled with smiling and trying to avoid any further conversation by eating or drinking more than usual.

Thankfully, it was a soft tap upon Harry's shoulder that ended his torment.

Spinning around in his seat, he looked up at his welcome distraction; his parents. The pair were hand-in-hand, his mother's unoccupied hand still hovering by his shoulder. Harry felt a genuine grin break forth, both in joy and relief, at the sight of them. He had been a little worried at his sly attempt of avoidance in case the pair found him peculiar. Either way, it didn't seem the matter. James was looking at little surprised at his response, but no less pleased, as Harry scooted off his seat to stand up to properly greet the pair.

''Fancy a tour?'' James asked. ''We've got a free period and, well…''

''Thought it would be best to get you assimilated to the school layout,'' Lily finished.

Lily made it all sound so professional, almost as if she was expected to give him a tour, not because she wanted to. Harry felt his smile dim, his eyes automatically shifting to the teacher's table where Dumbledore resided. The old man looked up from smearing raspberry jam upon toast, almost as if he had felt Harry's eyes upon him, and sent him a reassuring smile. It seemed his parent's idea of a tour and given free period obviously had some influence; something that made Harry's stomach churn with disappointment.

''Hey, what's with the face?'' his Dad cheered.

Harry felt the teenager's blunt, slightly calloused finger playfully prod his cheek. Attention officially drawn away from Dumbledore, he looked back at his Mum's tentative smile and Dad's questioning glance. He gave a shrug, unsure what to say. Although, now looking at them, the duo seemed nervous, not annoyed at inviting him on a tour. Dumbledore might've set this all up, making the whole process run smoothly, but both Lily and James seemed like they were making a personal, not professional, effort to know him.

Perhaps, Harry hoped, perhaps the pair did want to spend time with him? Even just a little bit.

Lily to cut the somewhat awkward silence, her hand squeezing his shoulder. ''Come on, Harry, we're not that boring, are we?''

''I hope not,'' James added, a comically offended expression creeping onto his features. ''We're not boring, are we, Harry?'' he continued, his finger playfully wriggling against his unknown-son's cheek. It was such an immature, ticklish action, especially when the older boy's fingers skittered to the side of Harry's neck.

''Hey, are we?'' James sing-songed, both hands now lightly jabbing his torso in attempt of tickling him. ''Go on, tell the truth.''

His Dad was so silly, a total goof. Worse than Fred and George with teasing and gaining other student's attention. Harry squirmed – once, twice – and get out a yelp-like laugh at getting his sides tickled. Batting away those larger hands was harder than catching a Snitch; his reflexes might've been amazing but James was quick and light, leaving Harry no choice but to walk backwards. Escape was futile though, James simply trailing after him, continuing the action and all but herding him away from the table. It was only several feet from the Hall's doorway did Harry stop walking backwards, vaguely aware of his own, breathless laughter, others giggling and his mother speaking up.

''James, don't wind him up so much…''

''Aw, its fine, Lils,'' James was laughing. ''Harry here,'' he cheekily crooned, ''just needed a good laugh. 'Cause we're not boring, right?''

''No, no,'' Harry snorted, finally gaining escape via distance. ''Not boring, just annoying.''

That certainly made his Dad laugh and clap him on the shoulder. Even his Mum, seemingly worried about his sensitivity, no longer looked ready to tell James off. Instead, she shook her head and began to lead the way out the Great Hall. Both Harry and James quickly followed after her and into the relativity peaceful corridor, a grin plastered on both their faces.

''Corridors will pick up in activity soon,'' Lily began with a well-practiced air. ''In thirty minutes or so classes start, so it might get a bit hectic,'' she continued, striding further ahead, ''so we'll start here. After this, we'll have lunch and show you the dungeons seeing as, on Fridays like today, James and I have Potions after our free morning period. Right, well, let's begin, the ground floor has…''

Harry tuned Lily's speech out as he settled walking in the middle between his parents. His Mum, right now, reminded him of Hermione with the way she was enthusiastically pointing everything out, her mouth going a mile a minute. Still, it was nice to hear his Mum's voice and silently commit it to memory. Besides, it wasn't like he was missing out. He had already received his first tour not that long ago, back in his own time of '91. After all, so far, the Hogwarts of 1977 didn't seem any different with the same features, slightly changed fixture and –

Something hard yet spongy bounced off Harry's head. ''Ow!''

''Damn it, Peeves!'' James grunted, also rubbing the back of his own head.

A high-pitched cackle echoed about the halls and a familiar, tiny poltergeist with a wide mouth popped into existence above them. Harry frowned, fully remembering Peeves, one of Hogwarts' notoriously annoying residents. The bell-hatted ghost spun around in the air, holding an armful of rotting mushrooms.

''Harry, Peeves. Peeves, Harry,'' Lily introduced dryly. ''You,'' she scolded the poltergeist, ''you move along now or I'll fetch the Bloody Barron.''

''Evans, Evans, Evans,'' Peeves crowed. ''Evans the girlie sent from the heavens!''

''Galeawasi!'' James announced, wand drawn. **[1]**

A near-by suit of armor lost its helmet, the headgear flying off at a high speed and planting itself on Peeves head. The little man flailed about, clanging his head against the ceiling, his muffled, tinny curses barely audible. Harry gaped, openly impressed, as he watched the poltergeist struggle to remove the helmet. He would've continued to watch, just to see if Peeves could get it off, if it hadn't of been for Lily hastily making them move along, clearly eager to get away.

''Oh, I can't stand him!'' Lily all but growled.

''He's not that bad, is he?'' Harry queried.

''No, but they have history,'' James informed him, amused. ''First day Lils started Hogwarts, he pelted her with this orange goo.''

''Which was highly unfair,'' she chimed in, her honest, green eyes staring into Harry's. ''Being Muggle-born, I barely knew how to use my wand, so I couldn't spell myself clean until I found a teacher.''

''Oh.''

James gave him a nudge with his hip. ''How about you, Harry? You Muggle-born, too?''

''I…guess?'' Harry mumbled. He knew what a Muggle was, Hagrid had taught him that. But Muggle-born? He could only assume yes, it sounded pretty self-explanatory. He had been brought up by the Dursleys…

Lily seemed to pick up on his confusion. ''Muggle-born means you're a person born by two Muggle parents.''

Finding the information interesting, Harry questioned, ''what if your Mum's Muggle-born, but Dad's from a Wizarding family?''

''Half-Blood,'' the Head boy and girl concluded in union.

''And, a person is born from a family without Muggle ancestors is often called Pure-Blood,'' James expanded. ''But that's all stupid stuff,'' he shot Lily a pointed look, ''nobody should care about blood status. If somebody _ever_ insults you because of who you are, they don't deserve to even share the same air as you.''

Harry had a feeling he was missing something. James sounded intensely serious, his eyes locked with Lily who was…looking a little sad. It sounded like James was reassuring his Mum of something. Was it bad to be Muggle-born or something? Frowning, the eleven-year-old felt left out of the loop. He looked between the pair from his spot walking between them and watched his father reach across Harry's head to affectionately tuck a strand of Lily's red hair behind her ear.

It felt awkward seeing such an intimate moment between them.

''Anyway,'' Lily's voice had a thick, odd crackle to it. ''Harry,'' she cleared her throat, ''seems like you don't know even the basics of the Wizarding world.''

''Yeah, why's that?'' James asked fondly, his hand moving from Lily's hair to ruffling Harry's black mop. ''We had it in our heads that you're a wee whizz kid being placed in seventh year!''

Ducking away from the action and ignoring the teenager's change in attitude, Harry grumbled, ''I was brought up by my Muggle Aunt and Uncle. They don't like magic much but, um – '' he floundered, trying to stick to the tales he had already spun to others, '' – I'm pretty ahead in studies. I had a tutor and Dumbledore thought it would be good to check out Hogwarts.''

Harry missed the shared look between the teen couple, his attention far more focused on flattening his hair.

''Aunt and Uncle?'' James' voice was uncannily soft. Too soft. Harry stopped attempting to tidy his wild nest of hair and peered up at his teenage father. The young man had stopped walking, Lily also, and looked like he wanted to ask something before his bespectacled gaze narrowed upon Harry's forehead. ''Harry,'' he was louder now, his tone edgy, ''how did you get _that?_''

''Uh…'' Harry wished the floor would swallow him up. He just realized what James had spotted. Great.

''Get what?'' Lily asserted lightly, her slender fingers reaching forth to card through Harry's hair. ''This head of hair messier than yours?'' she joked.

''No, Lils,'' James spoke patiently. ''That,'' he gestured to the scar upon the boy's forehead. ''That Curse Scar. It's a remnant of a very powerful spell. Often a dark spell.''

Slightly defensive, Harry reluctantly pointed out a key fact. ''I got it when I was a baby, back when my parents died.''

Now that titbit silenced any further talk on James behalf. His father's eyes bugged a little bit and Harry found himself unable to look at said parents. Not that Lily let him. The young woman ducked into his line of vision, making Harry flush under such attention. He felt like a bug, being scrutinized like this. She had practically bent forward, her eyes set upon the scar Harry had once loved before finding out he was a Wizard. Now, or at least back in his own time, everyone gawped at the awful, lightning bolt-shaped scar and he really, really didn't want this to happen again.

''Dad said my great, great Uncle Thaddeus had one on his elbow from a duel,'' his teenage father unhelpfully supplied. ''It used to flare up something wicked to the point he couldn't use his left arm. Poor bast –''

''James, language,'' the Head girl interjected, harshly. Sighing, she looked at Harry in a different light. A mix of thirsty curiosity and woeful sympathy. That is, until Harry self-consciously tried to sweep his fringe back over his scar. ''Does yours hurt, too, Harry?'' she asked. ''Madam Pomfrey, she's the school Mediwitch, she might have something to help if it does…''

''I-It's okay. Thanks.'' Harry just wanted to drop this whole subject, maybe get pelted by moldy mushrooms by Peeves again. That had been more fun, if not better than this awkward discussion. His parents might be alive and oblivious now, but they would be dead in a few years. Just thinking about it made his insides cold, and he made a point of hastily stepping away –

Only to trip, Dudley's massive old shoes and Dumbledore's given uniform trousers, catching together. Harry bit back a curse, staggering to the side while regaining his balance. He narrowly thought he was going to head-butt the nearby cold, stone wall until a set of hands – large, long fingered hands roughened with wand use – steadied him.

''Steady on there, HarBear,'' James smirked.

Harry scrunched up his face, embarrassed from the sticking nickname and his caught location against James.

Unmoving, he realized how tall James was; the young man might've not been a broad as Sirius or taller than Remus' extra few inches, but the older Potter had to be around six foot in height. Idly, the child wondered if he would ever grow to such a height, at least until his mind shifted to the melancholy thought that this would probably be the only type of hug he would remember his Dad giving him. Not that you could really call the awkward position he was in a hug. But with his cheek pressed against the young man's ribcage, one sturdy hand on his shoulder and a wiry muscled arm across his back, Harry sure viewed it as the closest thing to an embrace.

''No wonder you fell over, look at these trousers,'' Lily clucked her at Harry. ''And shoes.''

''Told you he shrunk,'' the Head boy sounded pleased.

Lily flicked her boyfriend on the ear. ''Harry hasn't shrunk. He's the same size he was yesterday.''

Extracting himself from the taller male, Harry would deny the pout upon his face. Did they just call him _small?!_

''I swear, he almost reached my mid upper-arm height last night,'' James pondered. ''Look,'' he made a show of lining up beside Harry, ''now he's a barely above my elbow!''

That earned his father a whack upon the chest. Amused, Harry laughed, silently far more grateful for the conversation change. Plus, it was kind of nice seeing his parents like this. To witness them so happy and carefree when he had heard nothing but negative things about them from his Aunt and Uncle was heart-warming. James Potter wasn't a drunk, he was confident and bold; and Lily, no way was she a freak. She was empathetic and beautiful and…currently tapping her wand against his shoes and clothing.

''There,'' Lily proudly announced, ''much, much better!''

Looking down at himself, Harry had to agree. She had shortened his uniform, his blazer and robe no longer drowning him. Wiggling his toes, Dudley's old trainers fitted comfortably and felt far less likely to slip off. He smiled up at her, amazed.

''Thanks!''

''Anytime, Harry,'' she said. ''Come on you two, we haven't even hit the second floor yet and Potions is after lunch…''

* * *

Trudging his way up the castle steps, Peter wheezed out a heavy sigh.

Unlike most of his friends, he didn't have a free Friday morning slot in his schedule. Instead, first day into classes, he had spent his entire morning in Care of Magical Creatures. It had seemed a good class to take, at the time. But now, making his way back from the Forest with a noticeable limp, he scolded himself.

Sometimes he wished he was more studious like Remus; despite missing classes every post-full moon the tallest of the Marauders always seemed three steps ahead. The werewolf was naturally smart, something Peter wished he was also. Even James and Sirius, who never seemed to study, gained decent marks that allowed them to take roughly the same classes as Remus. It was annoying – maybe even if a tad frustrating – that he couldn't keep up with his friends in so many ways.

Nevertheless, the rat Animagus was thankful for a spot of lunch.

He squashed down the irritation he felt upon recalling that seeing his friends meant seeing Evans. Lily was lovely as all, but it was annoying to see her and James together or slinking off together. He wasn't jealous, no, no. But he really hadn't expected the pair to get together in the first place. The blond had expected the Marauders, not including Sirius' occasional conquests, to have their final year as bachelors. Regardless, the group would most likely be in their usual spot in the Gryffindor common room, relaxing until afternoon classes would start.

Peter could already envision the platter of sandwiches and sweets swiped from the kitchens awaiting him. Grinning, he picked up his pace – and stopped immediately, a painful twinge encompassing his backside and lower back.

''St-Stupid damn Abraxan,'' he hissed, his hands reaching to rub his severely bruised bottom.

That accursed winged horse had kicked him square on the bum during today's practical. It had sent him flying across the forest opening and into a nettle bush. The physical pain wasn't bad, but the shame was. He could still hear the other seventh year's laughter and Kettleburn's poorly masked guffaw echoing in his ears.

''D'ya need a hand to the infirmary, Pettigrew?''

Face morphing into a scowl, Peter heard the words, but not the voice. He was angry, ashamed and hungry. Subtly he grasped at his wand, ready to Hex whoever was now teasing him once their back was turned – until a head of wavy, long blonde hair and clear blue eyes stepped before him. Ah. It was Marlene McKinnon. Ravenclaw and fellow seventh year. He felt sweaty and sick, his face reddening as she smiled at him. She was a good friend of Lily's and, Peter gulped, very pretty with her ivory skin, long legs and rose-petal lips.

''H-Hi, McKinnon,'' Peter stammered. Had she been in CoMC too? He hoped not.

She just let loose a giggle. ''I'm pretty sure I've told you to call me Marlene before.''

''Yes, um,'' he choked, his hands fiddling with his wand, ''hello, Marlene.''

Grin softening into a smile, Marlene asked, ''did you hit your head when that Abraxan kicked you?''

Peter groaned, embarrassment filling his veins and brightening his face. ''No!'' he snapped. ''N-no I didn't!''

He wasted no time storming off into the castle, ignoring the young woman's startled yet apologetic tone calling him back. _She was like all girls, _Peter assured himself, _she was taking the piss outta me_. Oh, he knew he wasn't the best looking of teenagers: he was short, chubby with acne scars and narrow, crooked teeth. But, he wasn't _that_ bad. Yet McKinnon, with her beautiful appearance, had obviously been in his class and had probably laughed at him being kicked by that insufferable French beast.

Panting, Peter barely realized he had made it to Gryffindor Tower until he shakily recited the password. He clenched his fists, attempting to calm down as he stepped through the portrait hole. After the turmoil of class and McKinnon, all be wanted to do was plop down in an overstuffed chair, eat and join in some laughs with his friends. He could already hear the familiar, raucous chuckles traveling his way and lightening his mood.

Feeling better already, Peter smiled weakly as he walked towards the Marauders usual corner of the common room. That is, until he set his eyes on the scene before him: Lily and James nestled together on a loveseat, Remus lounging in an armchair and, finally, Sirius and Porter upon the floor. The whole group was laughing and chatting, almost as if his lack of appearance didn't affect the dynamic of the group at all.

_'You're being over sensitive,'_ Peter told himself.

His mother always said he was a panicky, temperamental child. A bad morning mingled with unexpected changes was making him feel off. That was all. Awkwardly, Peter pushed his negative thoughts aside and edged closer to the group, his eyes taking in the little details. James was, ever so casually, running his fingers up and down Lily's forearm as he spoke to Remus seated opposite him. The lone female, however, was resting against the arm of the sofa, her green eyes dancing with mirth as she watched Sirius playing what looked like a game of Gobstones with the dubbed 'Baby Prongs'.

Coughing into his fist, Peter spoke up. ''Hey guys,'' he smiled, genuinely, ''where's lunch?''

At least _that _got him noticed. They all looked at him, even Porter, who shot him a timid-looking smile.

''Pete,'' James greeted with a grin.

Lily sat up a little straighter, joining in. ''There's only a few sandwiches left,'' she nodded towards the silver tray, ''sorry. James has been trying to fatten Harry up. Your crazy friend has it in his head that Harry's gotten smal –''

''Hey Wormy,'' Sirius interrupted, excitable as ever.

Peter beamed, thankful that at least Sirius wasn't going to ramble about Porter. He didn't mind the younger boy, not really. But the novelty of having a new, younger person sharing their dorm should've worn off last night. The kid was okay, so far quiet and boring. Evans was probably taking her duty of keeping an eye on Porter too strongly and, well, James must be trying to keep his girlfriend happy. As for Sirius' behavior of nicknaming Porter and, currently, laying on the floor beside the eleven-year-old…Well, Sirius could often act kind to be cruel.

Sirius, for as long as Peter could remember, always had a habit of giving back-handed compliments to those he didn't truly like. The dog Animagus was probably keeping his insults subtle in a bid to avoid a telling off from Evans. Once the red-head wasn't around, Peter silently looked forward to the malicious pranks to follow upon the intruder of their privacy.

After snagging a sandwich, Peter gingerly sat down beside Remus' chair as Sirius continued, sniggering.

''You won't believe this,'' the Black said. ''Prongslet here hasn't heard of Gobstones before!''

''Prongslet?'' Peter murmured.

Lily informed, ''he means Harry.''

''Oh,'' Peter felt his appetite wither. Great. More nicknames and Porter-centered attention. ''Uh, right.''

''Really, it's true,'' Remus added, his voice a near whisper as he looked down at his blond friend. ''James didn't say much, but I think our idea of Harry being a prodigy was wrong. He might be advanced, maybe. But yeah,'' he shrugged, amber eyes brightening, ''Dumbledore asked if I'd like to tutor Harry for extra credit. Pretty cool, eh Peter?''

Blank faced, Peter Pettigrew nodded numbly; he didn't like change.

* * *

**Notes:**

_**[1]** An altered form of Waddiwasi ("vadd" Sw. a soft mass + "vas y" Fr. go there). ''Galea'' meaning Helmet._


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: **_Thank you, as always. _  
**Disclaimer:** _I don't own anything. All belong to darling J.K Rowling.  
__  
_

**A Tumble through Time:**

**Faces New and Old.**

When entering the Potions classroom Lily found herself assaulted with the lingering whiff of simmering potions combined with Mrs. Scower's Magical Mess Remover. It was a familiar, comforting scent that brought forth many happy memories in her mind. Aside from Charms, Potions had always came a close second in her favorite lessons. Attending Potions for the first class of her final year at Hogwarts was a good kick-start, this room had been the first lesson she had with…

Lily paused at that thought, biting her lip.

She shuffled her way to the front, her eyes automatically flicking to the stringy figure with long, black hair and prominent, aquiline nose. It was Severus Snape, her long time best friend turned vile acquaintance. He had grown more over the summer yet hadn't filled out, his complexion as pale as ever. Back in the early days of starting Hogwarts, Potions had been their first class which they sat huddled together yet now, no longer even sharing eye contact in the corridors, they were rows apart.

It was saddening, in a way. They had been so close, sharing so many experiences together. Hell, it had been Sev had found Pip, her currently five-year-old pet cat, curled atop a Dickens novel at the local library bin at their hometown. Still, out of all the outcomes of her schooling, Lily had never expected to be taking a seat beside James Potter in lieu of Sev. But so much as changed the moment Snape called her 'Mudblood' and Potter went from being an infatuated, pig-headed fool to, simply, James. She wouldn't have thought it, let alone predicted, that she wouldn't have Severus as her best friend and James Potter as her boyfriend. Nonetheless, that seemed to be the direction her life was taking, no matter how much she missed her old, dear friend.

Dropping down into her chosen seat near the front, Lily bumped elbows with James. The Head boy was sending her an odd look, his chocolate gaze darting between her wan smile and Severus. During the summer, she had divulged a lot about her hurt in regards to Severus' actions via her letters with James. It had been surprising how comforting yet mature he had been through a handful of ink-splotched words. Yet, James still looked as if he wanted to Hex her ex-best friend but, surprisingly enough, settled with placing his hand over hers upon the potion stained desk. The action filled her with a sense of calm; the fact James was opting to be supportive to her, not aggressive to Snape, proving how much he had matured.

Momentarily lost in her emotions involving Severus Snape and James Potter, Lily very nearly forgot about a particular messy-haired, eleven-year-old boy. Naturally, she spun on her seat, worried that Harry had got separated in the hustle and bustle of entering the Potions laboratory. However, as quickly as that pang of panic came, it left upon spotting Harry standing beside Remus' towering, lanky frame.

The werewolf was talking to the Potions Master of the class, Professor Slughorn. It seemed the short, pot-belled man had taken a shine to Harry in a manner Lily had experienced for herself. Slughorn had always made a habit of announcing her as one of his favorite students, something she didn't totally approve with. She could only hope, watching Slughorn's silvery walrus-like moustache flutter as he talked, that Harry wouldn't be coerced into 'Slug Club'.

''Don't worry, Red. Baby's fine with Moony.''

Grimacing at the light, joking tone of Sirius Black, Lily shot the teenager seated behind herself and James a glare. ''How _you_,'' she said, ''are able to study Potions at N.E.W.T level, I'll never know.''

''Don't be jealous now.''

''He probably slept with the O.W.L exam invigilator,'' James chimed in with a chuckle.

''I didn't have sex with Flitwick!'' Black sputtered, his legs kicking the back of James' chair.

Lily rolled her eyes, a slight smile on her lips, and left the boys be. She returned her attention to Remus and Harry. The tawny-haired male was nudging Harry away from a chattering Slughorn now, their approach moving towards the spare seats beside Sirius. Lily resisted the urge to get up and grab Harry's hand; the boy looked bewildered as he stared directly at…_Snape?_

Yes, the red-head realized, Harry was staring open-mouthed at the Slytherin. Lily blinked, just a tad confused and intrigued, at the way Harry's face was awash with astonishment. It was almost as if the eleven-year-old recognized her old friend. But no, that was preposterous.

''Righteo, lets begin class!'' Slughorn announced, gaining her attention.

* * *

Harry's mind was still whirling from seeing his old Potions Professor, Snape, when class ended. Twice Remus had tapped him with his foot to get his attention back on the weird yet wonderfully kind Slughorn. Even Sirius, at some point, flicked a newt eyeball at Harry in a bid to distract him from scowling at Snape. In the end, Harry had stopped for the sake of not causing arguments; this young Snape had already sent him a warning glare, hinting he was onto Harry's staring.

But he couldn't help it, it was _so weird_ to compare the identical sneer from a younger, greasy-haired Snape to the one that taught him Potions. Still, for all the shock it was to see that particular slimy Slytherin, Harry hadn't been prepared for the last lesson on a Friday afternoon, Herbology.

Professor Sprout wasn't the green-fingered teacher of this era, but a Professor Beery. If seeing Snape was a shock, then meeting Herbert Beery was equally a once in a life-time experience. The man was a towering mass of wild, grey facial hair and a gleaming bald scalp. Harry had half a mind to compare the aging professor to that was Hagrid given his impressive size and warm eyes. However, as fascinating as it was to watch the man's humongous hands touch tiny, little sprouts so gently, it wasn't Beery's appearance that made Harry commit him to memory.

No, it was the fact Professor Beery liked to sing out instructions in a rumbling baritone.

The Professor was theatrical to the point Harry winced, half-wishing his parent's lesson involved uprooting squalling mandrakes than listening to Beery bellow joyously. Either way, as the lesson progressed within the greenhouse, Harry wondered if today was going to be a day of shocks.

Firstly he spotted Snape and, now, directly opposite him, there was a young woman who looked suspiciously like Neville Longbottom. She was small, kind of chubby with a round-face and short, black hair. Lily had introduced her as Alice Turner, a fellow Gryffindor. Harry could only fiddle with the soil in front of him, his eyes shifting between all four Marauders and the teenager speaking to his Mum.

''- overheard that Professor Beery'll be resigning this year. ''

''Alice,'' Lily hushed her friend with a giggle, ''don't start rumors.''

''No, really!'' the female-Neville replied.

''She's telling the truth,'' a near-by male spoke up. ''Beery is joining the Wizarding Academy of the Dramatic Arts.''

Bored at potting Flitterblooms, Harry peered over at the loud gaggle of his father and his friends. Peter, unlike Potions, was in this class. The pudgy blond wasn't doing his work, far more focused on making his friends laugh. It wasn't anything unusual, but Harry felt a little put out. He had already been beside James when Peter entered the greenhouse and, at some point, found himself muscled away by Peter. The older boy probably didn't mean it, Harry knew he was small and relatively unnoticeable, so being nudged away during a boisterous conversation wasn't an unusual occurrence.

Nevertheless, being made to plant harmless plants while the seventh years discussed their upcoming N.E.W.T projects was mind-numbing. It also didn't help that Lily was busy nattering to Alice. The two seemed close, barely taking a breath from gossiping or catching up. Harry huffed, bored, and looked towards his dorm-mates. If he and Ron were that loud during lesson 'Mione would blow a fit and –

A repetitive tapping against the greenhouse window garnered his focus.

The sight of Dumbledore standing outside with his midnight blue robes blending in the late-afternoon gloom was a pleasant sight. Harry beamed as the man waved at him, signalling for him to come outside. He wasted no time shaking off his gloves, his head already turning to tell Lily – only to stop. The majority of the class, Professor included, had taken note of Dumbledore's interruption with a mixture of nosiness or boredom. Beery waved him off with a large, soil-dusted hand as his mother and her friends wished him goodbye. Sirius, the other hand, had stopped talking to his friends to let loose a, ''Buh-bye Prongslet!'' that earned him a swift elbow in the stomach from his father.

Harry was still sniggering as the greenhouse door shut behind him.

''Fitting in quite well, I see,'' Dumbledore said, blue eyes twinkling.

''Yes, sir,'' he nodded, his heart swelling.

''See, didn't I tell you, my boy?'' the old man boasted, ''no need for last night's worry.''

Nodding, Harry followed Dumbledore across the lawn, his heart filling with confidence. Meeting his young parents and their friends had gone more than well, it was like a dream come true. Already he had memorized little facts about them and held them close to his heart. Be it his Mum's habit of biting her lower lip, or the way his Dad peeled his crusts off his sandwiches before eating them, Harry continued to absorb as much as he could about them.

After all, who knew how long he had until…_Oh no. _

''Pro-Professor, do I…?'' He trailed off, his throat tightening. He couldn't say it, he couldn't ask if now was the time he head to go home. It had only been a day! Harry was just starting to get used to the idea of being here, only to have it snatched away? The Headmaster had been so off-hand with details, mentioning things of research and a stay in the past for a few months.

''No, no, Harry.'' the Headmaster sounded apologetic. ''I'm afraid you shall be staying put here until further notice. Research is proving a little scarce, but I do have contacts I'm awaiting to hear from,'' he smiled, '' I merely wished to invite you for a spot of tea and a little chat.''

''A chat?''

''Mhm. A chat. Away from wandering eyes and listening ears.''

''M'kay.''

The eleven-year-old quietly followed the elder up to his office, their small talk consisting of this and that. Harry was just finishing talking about being introduced to Gobstones when Dumbledore ushered him into his office with a chuckle. The Headmaster seemed as sprightly as ever, showing no signs of worry over the aforementioned difficulty of research. Besides, it wasn't as if he was in a rush to get back, not yet.

Harry knew he would be seeing his friends soon enough. So, as Dumbledore went about pouring the tea, he happily flopped down on the nearest chair. The seated location and size-adjusted clothing made the hem of his trousers rise up enough to show off his bright, yellow and lime green plaid socks. It was silly, but the sight of those socks made him smile. Very rarely in his life had he been given something first-hand for himself and, just like Mrs. Weasley's jumper, the garishly colored socks provided by the Headmaster was one of them.

''Glad to see you appreciate the socks,'' Dumbledore said. ''One can never have enough socks,'' he added, lifting his robes enough to reveal his equally loud, orange and blue pair. ''Though I am more partial to stripes than plaid.''

''I also got your money,'' Harry piped up. ''I don't really need any other clothes. You can have it back –''

''Nonsense, keep it.''

Determined, Harry informed the man honestly. ''Professor, you gave me an awful lot, y'know.''

''Small change when you've lived as long as me, my child,'' Dumbledore explained with a gentle smile. ''Besides, you'll need some more clothing than your school uniform during your stay here.''

''I guess…''

''Good,'' Dumbledore announced, reaching for the plate of biscuits. ''So,'' he continued, ''may I ask how you are? Any issues I should be aware of?''

Biting his lip, Harry squirmed nervously. He didn't think he had said anything he shouldn't have, yet. The Headmaster, during their first talk, had been very adamant about keeping his identity a secret. Time travel, Dumbledore had explained, was illegal and powerful. The old man had stressed less about changing the future and more over the fact he didn't want any officials getting involved over such a 'small matter' of Harry's encounter with the Mirror of Erised.

''Dad spotted my scar,'' the child confessed. ''I told him and Mum I got it when I was a baby when my parents died. They know I live with my Aunt and Uncle, too. But…but I didn't mention names or anything!'' he stressed, ''I even lied a few times. They all think I'm home schooled.''

''That's good, Harry. I know this must be hard for you.''

''S'fine,'' he murmured.

The older wizard offered him the plate. ''Custard Cream?''

''No thanks.''

''Very well,'' Dumbledore placed the item back upon the small, spindle-legged table beside the pot of tea. ''Aside from keeping up appearances, have you noticed anything different with yourself, Harry?''

Brows crashing together, the small boy made him puzzlement known upon his face.

''Your magic?'' the elder prompted. ''Have you noticed accidental magic happening more sporadically than usual? Do you feel drained? Anything, anything at all?''

Thinking hard, Harry couldn't think of anything different. He had been tired last night, dropping to sleep almost instantly to the sound of the teenagers' indecipherable whispering. But no, he felt and looked and seemed the same as always. Looking up at Dumbledore's strangely intense expression, Harry shook his head at the man's question.

''No,'' he answered. ''Why? Am I supposed to feel different or something?''

For several beats the Headmaster remained silent, his blue eyes sweeping up and down at Harry. The child in question felt like he was being x-rayed by those eyes, at least until the faintest of creases appeared on Dumbledore's forehead. The Headmaster had spotted something. What, he didn't know but, call it instinct, Harry had a feeling the man was keeping something from him…

''Merely curious.''

Harry really, really wanted to ask _why _again.

Almost as if he had read his mind, Dumbledore chuckled softly. ''Nothing too serious, Harry,'' he sighed, ''I promise. There is an unknown magic lingering about you, undoubtedly a product of your time travel. I was simply wondering if you had experienced any effects from such a peculiar addition.''

Oh. Well, Harry thought, that didn't seem to be a big issue.

''But now,'' Dumbledore continued, his tone dulled. ''Now, something of utmost important to ask…''

Harry gulped. Here it was, the bad news. He knew this was all good to be true –

''One or two sugars?'' Dumbledore asked, tea cup in hand.

The laughter that left the boy's mouth loosened the days built up emotions.

* * *

Sirius was cold, wet and muddy. With aching limbs and a toothy, canine-like grin, he stepped into the Gryffindor common room aglow. The world was his oyster right now; a night of Quidditch drills on the pitch after dinner being the perfect thing from a day of classes. Broom resting across his broad shoulders, he ignored the grumbles emitting from behind him and shot a wink at a passing-by female. The girl rolled her eyes at him, but that was okay, that was fine.

Because Sirius Orion Black was ab-so-lutely _buzzing_.

''Please don't smile like that, you look like a mass murderer.''

Pausing mid-swagger to his dormitory, Sirius glanced at the owner of the dead-panned comment. It was the usual culprit for such biting words, Lily Evans, James' feisty bird. He snorted. She was curled up on the sofa by the fireplace and wasn't even looking at him. The Head girl had her nose stuck in some dusty-looking tomb, her free hand running through the long, fluffy fur that belonged to her damnable pet cat.

Maybe it was his inner-dog, but Sirius didn't like that cat with its neon-blue eyes and ugly, black and white markings. Nevertheless, he ignored the feline and focused upon the female. ''Oh, Lilikins,'' he crooned at her. ''Has it finally happened? Have you finally succumb to my devilishly handsome ways?''

That head of red hair whipped up faster than a Snitch on Muggle drugs. ''Oh, _please,_ like I would ever – !''

Her comment was cut short, and Sirius discovered why upon receiving a broom handle to the back of his head. Growling, he scowled at James' equally grimy yet overly red face. He had forgotten about that lot; James, Remus and Peter trailing behind him. The latter two hadn't partaken in drills and try-outs, but James had as their star Chaser. All three, plus other Gryffindors willing to make the team, hadn't been impressed when Sirius announced a last-minute try out session after dinner.

''Padfoot!'' James, forever tetchy when involving Evans, shouted. Sirius didn't bother to hide his grin as the other male went on. ''Just because McGonagall made you Captain doesn't mean you can steal the most attractive girl in the school.''

Sirius flapped a hand at his riled friend. ''Don't lie,'' he smirked. ''You're just pissed I made you all practice in the rain. If you want Red to love the real you, let her see how ugly you are with soggy hair.''

''You prat,'' James huffed fondly.

Peter shuffled closer to the fireplace, sniffing. ''I think most Quidditch players are more annoyed that you sprung this idea upon them in the Great Hall.''

''You really couldn't have waited like the other Houses and had try-outs tomorrow?'' Remus joined in, shrugging off his waterproof-spelled robe.

''Everyone expects the first Saturday back for try-outs, Moony,'' Sirius argued. ''I was taking them by surprise!''

Lily laughed. ''Remus, don't be silly. That would require Black to have a brain.''

James let out a cackle and, uncaring of his filthy state, snuggled up next to Lily. ''You tell him, love.''

''Urgh,'' the Head girl wrinkled her nose. ''Oh, sweet Merlin, you stink – '' she edged further down the sofa, both book and cat in her lap, '' – and you're dripping on me!''

A round of laughter followed suit at the sight of James sliding up closer to Lily. The young woman was flushing as James invaded her space, purposely planting a mud-smeared kiss upon her cheek. Sirius felt something inside of him soften at the sight of his best mate so deliriously happy. The two clicked together so well that, if he wasn't terrified of being tied down, he would've been jealous. But, alas, all Sirius felt was contentment at James' love as opposed to Remus' silent longing for acceptance and Peter's…er..

Sirius shook his head at the thought, droplets of rainwater flicking off and onto Lily's sour-faced cat, Pip. The cat in question slinked off, undoubtedly off to shed more fur. Stretching his arms above his head, he shot the fluffball a glare, feeling his built-up adrenaline ebb. He hadn't kept track of the time during their session on the pitch and, upon looking at the clock, felt his eyebrows go up in surprise.

Huh. 11PM. No wonder some of the wee second years where whiny. And speaking of wee ones…

''Where's HarBear?'' Sirius asked.

The kid had been absent since Dumbledore collected him and had yet to show up. Secretly, Sirius had been hoping for Harry to come watch them on the pitch – a chance to show off and impress the young one with his Beater skills. Despite not knowing the kid for long, it was nice to have someone so genuinely nice hang off his every word. It reminded him of the days when his own little brother, Regulus, had looked up to him...

''In bed,'' Lily supplied from her defeated location in James' damp arms.

James pulled a face. ''Aw, when did he come back?''

''An hour or so ago,'' she smiled. ''He spent dinner with Dumbledore, I think they had a chat.''

''Shame,'' Remus said. ''Harry probably would've loved learning about Quidditch.''

''Oh, Harry knows _all _about Quidditch,'' Lily bubbled, amused. ''He's just as much as a manic as _you,_'' she nudged James' knee with her own, ''with that damn sport. I had to guilt trip him over being lonely so he wouldn't go out after you lot. I didn't want him to catch a death of a cold out in all that rain.''

Sirius grinned at such news, his grey eyes meeting James' brown. The pair of them where on the same wavelength over this information, Sirius could tell. Yes, playing a friendly game of Quidditch with Harry seemed to be on tomorrow's agenda. It was officially decided, even if they had to sneak the titchy boy away from Lils...

Peter's voice broke in, ''I thought he didn't know much about the Wizarding world?''

''Eh,'' James shrugged, ''seems like he knows the basics.''

''Quidditch is a part of the 'basics' now?'' the red-head said incredulously.

''Yeah!'' echoed in union from both dark-haired males.

* * *

The following morning marked the first Saturday since returning to Hogwarts.

Over the summer, James had many plans as to what his first weekend would entail. Such ideas mainly surrounded wooing Lily further, possibly taking her out for lunch in Hogsmeade. However, these plans had been morphed and swiftly shrugged aside upon discovering Harry Porter's equal love for Quidditch and, pleasantly enough, Lily's own encouragement. So, with a quick breakfast taken care of, James led the way back to Gryffindor tower, his friends following closely. Lily had been pulled aside by Dumbledore upon leaving the Great Hall, leaving the boys to go ahead and get ready for their planned mess about on the pitch.

James was already thinking through teaching Harry a few of his own moves when he heard Sirius chatting – no, more like _bragging, _to the green-eyed boy. He swallowed a chuckle, half-tempted to correct Sirius' embellishments on facts, and glanced over his shoulder. Like himself, wearing his soft, brown leather jacket over his white t-shirt and blue jeans, his friends were dressed in their usual casual, Muggle-style attire for the weekends. Even Remus, forever the prefect, was clad smartly in his worn jumper and black jeans while Peter favored loose, baggy shirts. Sirius, however, looked more like a Muggle biker with his boots, leather trousers and dark, torn-up denim vest over his clingy t-shirt.

Smiling, James noted how most of that clothing was doing a perfect job at smothering Harry.

The Quidditch Captain was stooped low, his muscled arm curled around the boy and pulling him close as they walked along. It was an amusing sight, especially at the childishly enthusiastic glee that coated Sirius' face as he talked nonstop. Though, if Harry wasn't looking up at Sirius with such admiration, James would've intervened.

Not that it didn't stop him from doing so anyway.

''So, Harry,'' he spoke up, ''you said you've played as Seeker before at home. Ever caught the Snitch?''

''Yup!'' the boy chirped.

James halted in his tracks in the corridor, the sound of Harry's confident reply bringing a grin to his face. Like a puppy, the boy all but squirmed out of Sirius' hold, practically charging forward until he was at James' side. It was weird, but the blatant eagerness filling the eleven-year-old's face made him feel a warmth he couldn't describe. Talking about Quidditch or, perhaps, growing more comfortable around him made Harry more talkative. It was nice.

''Yeah?'' the Potter coaxed.

Harry seemed to puff up. ''Caught it on my first game,'' he announced.

''Aha! Hear that, Pete? Harry's still new to Quidditch and could catch it!'' James called back to his slow walking friend.

Sirius added playfully, ''our dear Wormy is couldn't even catch a cold.''

The teenagers, minus Pettigrew, let out a small snigger. It was only Harry, James noted, who didn't laugh along at their joking. In fact, the preteen's smile lost its previous glow as his green eyes stared up into James own. For the briefest of moments, James thought he was going to be told off upon looking down at those eyes. The vivid green color and glimmer of passion reminded him so much of Lily that it was unsettling. At least, until Harry corrected his statement, a tinge of timidness creeping back into his voice.

''Well, the Snitch is fast. And, I sorta catched it.''

''Caught,'' Remus softly corrected.

Harry nodded, continuing. ''Yeah. I caught it but, well, with my mouth.''

The group of Marauders promptly choked on their own spit.

''W-what?!'' Peter was the first to recover.

''It still counted!'' Harry protested. ''But I fell forward on my broom and almost swallowed it before spitting it back out.''

Sirius, clutching his stomach, wheezed. ''Oh sweet Merlin.''

Feeling his eyes blur from tears of laughter, James let his back hit the stone wall as his chuckles kept on coming. Gasping, he managed to reach for Harry, his hand immediately burring itself in the thick, raven tufts of hair. Unable to speak, ruffling the boy's hair was the best he could do with reassurance, especially when he could see the pinkish hue overtaking Harry's face. It was in the middle of this and attempting to regulate his breathing when James' heard the familiar voice of his girlfriend.

''What on earth…?''

''L-Lils,'' James huffed, gathering his senses. ''Hey, sorry. Harry told us a funny story…''

The red-head looked as good as she did in school uniform to James' eyes. She stood, clad in an oatmeal-colored turtleneck and black-check skirt, looking as beautiful as ever. Her facial expression looked skeptical though, her gaze flitting between all of them before focusing on Harry. James knew what she was looking for. She had always hated bullying, even the banter he shared with his best friends. Undoubtedly, the Potter reasoned, his girlfriend was worried their 'banter' could be taken as teasing taken too far, especially when applied to a certain eleven-year-old. Seeing Lily like this, protective and honorable, made James' stomach swoop with the urge to snog her a little bit senseless.

Although, maybe not in front of his friends.

''I told them about my first Quidditch match with friends,'' Harry explained.

Lily zeroed a glare upon the older males. ''And they laughed?'' she hissed.

''Whoa, calm down mama bear,'' Sirius' intervened.

''Harry, ah –'' Remus coughed, clearing creeping laughter, '' – told us how he once caught the Snitch with his mouth.''

James felt his lips twitch as Lily's misplaced anger melted away, mirth entering her features. ''Oh…Oh-ho.'' She paused, her own need to laugh poorly masked. ''Sorry, Harry. I didn't mean to find it funny but – ''

The temporary Gryffindor in question let out a very put-upon sigh. ''You can laugh,'' Harry said, sounding every inch like disinterested adult.

Such a reaction merely broke the damn, a new selection of laughter starting up again. It didn't last as long as their previous bout of chuckles, but Harry's impatient pout and overly mature tone was too much to resist, even for Lily. Rubbing the tears of amusement out of his eyes, James sided up next to his girlfriend, planting a quick kiss upon her forehead as she cozied up against his chest. It was only then, with his hand placed on the curve of her hip, did he notice the new addition to her attire: a handbag.

It was burgundy quilted leather, small in size yet fancy, and dangling from her left shoulder by a woven leather and gold-tone chain strap. Frowning, James tried to quash the clawing of jealously in his insides. The handbag wasn't Lily's own, the young woman had been handbag-less during breakfast and James sincerely doubted she had got to Gryffindor Tower and back in such a short amount of time.

Someone must've gave Lily that handbag. A possible admirer, he thought, his jaw clenching and – she patted his face.

Jealous rage cut short, James blinked at her condescending glance.

''Professor Dumbledore gave it to me,'' she told him. ''It's a Port Key, you numpty!''


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: **_Thank you. _  
**Disclaimer:** _I don't own anything. All belong to darling J.K Rowling.  
__  
_

**A Tumble through Time:**

**Concerns All Around.**

The handbag turned Port Key provided by Albus Dumbledore sparked several inquisitive reactions.

At first, like any healthy teenagers they were, it brought forth curiosity. Everyone knew that a Port Key was a form of transportation, a sign of freedom. It was only Harry, in his lack of knowledge, who didn't know what a Port Key was. Out of them all, it was Remus Lupin who took a small delight in explaining the use for such an enchanted object to Harry.

Ever since the Headmaster had proposed the position as tutor for the boy once a week, Remus had been thrilled. While his furry little problem remained hidden to the outside world, he knew being a werewolf left many future careers opportunities limited. Being a tutor to Harry would probably be his only taste of partaking in a mild form of his dream job as a teacher. He loved to inform and try to work his own enthusiasm into others – something he found himself doing upon Lily's mention of the Port Key.

While James and Sirius whined about the change in Saturday plans, Harry had hung off his every word. The eleven-year-old was the perfect little learner, listening intently before wrinkling his nose over the fact it was a _handbag_, and asking, ''what if a boy needed a Port Key? Would they be given a handbag, too?'' that had Remus' lips twitching. Nevertheless, Harry's own curious response didn't last long, especially when Lily explained the given purpose of the Port Key – clothes shopping.

The mention of that dreaded activity even made a groan leave from Remus' own lips. While not a huge Quidditch fanatic, the werewolf had been looking forward to their pre-planned idea of a game. Days between the pull of the full moon and post-transformation were in short supply; the week before the full moon's appearance making him too bellicose for physical games and the week following his transformation leaving him drained. It would've been nice, Remus mused, to have a match with his friends during such an unaffected stint of time.

Yet Lily was as diplomatic as ever, managing to smooth disappointed frowns with the promise of Quidditch upon return. It also helped that she mentioned this trip was for Harry, not them. Merlin knew the boy, clad in the same jeans and hand-knitted jumper he arrived in, needed some new clothes. Remus himself wasn't from a wealthy background but his parents had always kept him fed, smartly clothed and happy. Sure, his jumper was a little small for his long arms and his father's old, charcoal jacket a too loose in the shoulders, but he still looked a damn sight more cared for than Harry.

Porter's jeans looked ready to fall off, the knees thinned out from use and hems frayed from being too long. Even the younger boy's t-shirt, hidden beneath his emerald jumper, defiantly hung out, far too large for his little frame. So it was no wonder, really, that the group caved in over the impromptu shopping trip. In fact, Lily made a point of telling them that her given item would be taking them not far from Hogwarts and within a local, Muggle borough of Banffshire…which promptly swept the group into eager action of exploration.

And that was how Remus found himself, almost two hours later, standing in Dufftown's modest high-street.

''Moony, just – _Moony_!'' Sirius urgently beckoned his attention.

Frowning, Remus shot his friend a glare. ''What now?''

''Have you _seen_ this?'' the fellow canine said, bewildered.

The trio of males were standing outside a small outfitters, waiting. Already they had drawn attention to themselves, namely thanks to Peter, who had been openly gawking at a swimsuit clad mannequin at one of the Muggle sports shops. Thankfully though, waiting outside wasn't bad. It wasn't too cold for September, the slight nip in the air more refreshing than chilling. Although, with James inside with Lily and Harry, Remus wasn't sure how long he could last listening to Peter rustling through a bag of crisps and Sirius' constant talk of motorbikes. He had made a huge mistake letting Padfoot roam about the magazine isles of a neighboring establishment, especially given the wad of material he had bought to pester Remus with.

Like right now, Remus thought darkly. If Sirius so much as even shoved another glossy, Muggle print of a motorbike under his nose, he would –

A low whistle followed from Sirius. ''C'mon, look at this curvaceous beauty.''

Half-lidded, honey-amber eyes flicked to the image, disinterested, only to suddenly widen.

_That_, Remus was startled to discover, wasn't a picture of a motorbike. There might've been a motorbike in the picture, but the hunk of gleaming metal and red paint was more of a prop for the nude woman sprawled upon it. Explosively, Remus flew into action with a gasp, his hands flailing to hastily shut the magazine and hide the image being presented under his nose.

''You – you,'' he sputtered, ears reddening, ''don't show me things like that!''

Sirius merely continued cackling. ''Wormy, I think I damaged Moony's sweet, virginal eyes!''

''If we weren't in public I'd Hex you so ba– ''

''Pete?'

Stalling mid-kick to Sirius' ankle, Remus turned towards the smallest of their trio, mindful of Sirius' worrisome tone. Following the Black's line of vision, the werewolf spotted Peter unresponsive to their usual banter. The chubby blond was scowling into the clothing outlet's window, seemingly distracted with what was going on inside. Remus didn't think twice about stepping up behind his friend, his far greater height making it easy to see over Peter's head and towards the view inside.

''What?'' Sirius wormed his way beside Remus. ''Lils finished playing dress up with the kid?''

Their close proximity caught Peter's attention. ''O-Oh. I don't know.''

The short man looked a little startled, something that didn't sit right with Remus. Peter had been glaring rather heatedly at an oblivious Harry who had been in the middle of play fighting with James who, from what Remus spotted, had been trying to wrestle a Fez hat upon the boy's head. Confused, and more than a tad curious, he asked his friend quite openly:

''You okay, Pete?''

''Yeah, yeah,'' Peter nodded, edging away from the window.

Sirius, clearly not catching onto the situation, clapped the blond on the shoulder. ''Hey, don't worry, it's not even twelve yet,'' he grinned, ''we'll play Quidditch when we get back. You're a pretty decent keeper when you pay attention.''

The rat Animagus let out a jittery laugh as Remus frowned, unconvinced.

''Peter,'' he cautioned.

Almost as if understanding the unspoken question, Peter hunched his shoulders. ''I-Its nothing, really, but..'' the blond nervously licked his lips, ''Porter does look an awful lot like James. Almost too much. I've just been thinking wh-what if they _are_ brothers?''

''Nah,'' Sirius cut in, his usually jocular expression absent. ''You know how old Jamie's parents are, right? Well, yeah. They didn't have our Prongs late in life by choice.''

Remus felt his eyebrows rise at the news. He had always assumed that the elderly Potters had James late by choice, not possible fertility issues, with their high stationed careers. But now, hearing such a fact from the young man who Charlus and Dorea Potter viewed as their second son, it made more sense. Still, Remus shared a glance with Peter, his amber meeting pale blue, and silently wondered…

Had Peter just fobbed them off?

* * *

''James –''

''He's gonna be fine, Lils.''

Harry felt his face flush and gut clench at the overheard whispers. He wasn't earwigging, honest. But his parent's hushed conversation was more important than listening to Sirius' long-winded ramble about his 'gloriously crafted' broom. Nobody had been concerned about him before, especially so openly, and listening to his Mum's fretful clucking combined with his Dad's confidence in him was new.

New and nice.

Unlike like Sirius' broom – not that Harry would tell the teenager of such. The Black was treating his broom like a sacred object, almost as if it was as good as Harry's own Nimbus 2000. Even Peter's steadfast nodding and mild glint of jealously hinted at such. Yet, in Harry's opinion, Sirius' Comet seemed severely lacking to what Harry had been gifted with in the future.

Still, it wasn't like Harry could tell the other male of such. Besides, after a morning of playing dress-up doll and wrinkling his nose at the late-seventies Muggle fashions, Harry needed to play to Quidditch. Remus and Peter were already up in the air, idly tossing a Quaffle between them…he wanted to join them.

Feeling like he had been patient enough, the eleven-year-old opened his mouth, ready to attempt to silence Sirius' enthusiastic talk, until he felt a warmth tingle its way from his head to his toes.

'' – there, a Cushioning Charm.''

Blinking, Harry turned towards the huffy tone of his mother, only to notice the young woman standing directly behind him. During his brief lapse in concentration, it seemed both his parents had moved closer to his location on the Quidditch pitch. He spared James a quick glance, catching sight of an eye roll, before swiftly returning his attention to Lily.

''Sorry, Harry,'' she said matter-of-factly, tucking away her wand. ''But I feel better knowing you've got a little bit extra protection, you know?''

''Red,'' Sirius harrumphed, ''HarBear here has flew a broom before. And,'' he brightened, ''he's not gonna be on any lame broom, he'll be on James' old Silver Arrow.''

Harry couldn't help but pipe up. ''Its true!''

James let out a chuckle, his arm curling around his girlfriend's shoulders while the Head girl in question sighed in defeat. Lily leaned against James' side, her hands coming up in a sign of peace. ''Okay, okay,'' she resided, ''I'm just being safe. I don't want you to go toppling off your broom, that's all.''

Suddenly unsure why his Mum was so eager to keep him wrapped up in proverbial cotton wool, Harry frowned. It might've felt nice to have his welfare worried about, even if it was over silly worries, but it did confuse him. Aunt Petunia had never worried about him hurting himself; she'd just call him foolish, clip him around the ear and shove him into his cupboard. The only time his Aunt had been fretful about him was during dinners in which Uncle Vernon's business associates came around.

Only then, Harry noted, did his Aunt fuss and whine about keeping himself clean and keeping up appearances. It was only natural, with this is mind, for the boy to reach a similar conclusion about Lily's worries. The young red-head wasn't his mother, not yet. She didn't have that whole Mummy-thought-process yet, did she? So it made sense, really, to think she was worried about Harry ruining his new clothes considering the amount of effort it at taken Lily to find a pair of jeans that didn't Harry didn't feel stupid in.

Harry bit his lip, peering down at himself and his new attire of comfy trainers, jeans, red polo-shirt and thick, pale grey Aran jumper. Never before had he experienced being in a set of clothes felt so soft and fitted him so well. Lily had handpicked everything in the selection of shops they had visited this morning, even going the extra mile to find Harry a pair of jeans that went against the fashion and didn't flare out. It was no small wonder why she would be worried about him dirtying his clothes.

But that was a stupid worry, at least to Harry. He loved his selection of new, just-for-him clothes and wouldn't be ruining them anytime soon. Lower chin jutting out, he wasted no time with correcting his Mum.

''I'll be careful,'' he said, ''don't worry. I won't ruin my new clothes.''

Lily shot him a look that Harry could only describe as flabbergasted while Sirius snickered. A little lost, the young boy looked towards James for answers. The Head boy was smiling with disbelief.

''Forget the clothes, kiddo, Lils doesn't want you cracking your head open,'' James informed him with an amused lilt.

''Oh.''

''Yeah, _Oh,_'' Sirius mischievously parroted, playfully mussing up Harry's hair. ''Now, you gonna hop onto my Comet, show us how fast you can catch this snitch, so we have a muck-about before dinner?''

''You're letting him on your Comet?!'' Peter squeaked from above.

''Catch and stop whining,'' Remus drawled, tossing the Quaffle back towards the pudgy blond.

''Ooft! D-don't throw it so hard.''

Harry ignored the pair awaiting them in the sky, his attention drawn between his Dad's spare broom, a Silver Arrow, and Sirius' broom, a Comet, which James also had as his current broom. Looking between his two given options, he picked Sirius' Comet, knowing it was the most modern racing broom in this era.

''Alright,'' Sirius clapped. ''Be gentle with my Bertha and, most of all, no swallowing Snitches, 'kay?''

''And be careful,'' Lily added.

James merely stepped forward and raised a familiar golden ball between in forefinger and thumb. ''We'll time you,'' he beamed. ''Ready? One, two…''

Heartbeat thrumming in his ears and excitement bubbling in his veins, Harry barely heard his father utter 'three' or Lily cast a Tempus charm. If anything, before he knew it, he was up in the sky, whooshing past Peter and following the released golden Snitch. Vaguely, he heard astonished gasps followed by cheering from both those still grounded and Remus, but such reactions didn't matter.

No, impressing his to-be-parents and their friends slipped into the back of his mind. Instead, Harry found himself relishing in the rush of wind, allowing the past day and a bit worth of tension to leave him. It had been stressful and emotionally draining to lie and hold back the urge to latch onto his parents and never let go.

But that didn't matter right now. Because, up here, zooming further up into the sky and diving down after the Snitch, all Harry's worries dissolved.

* * *

''That kid's a natural, I'm telling you.''

''Uh-huh.''

''Might've not been able to appreciate my Comet but, what he lacks with knowing a decent racing broom, he makes up for skill.''

''That so…''

''Am tellin' you, Moony,'' Sirius carried on. ''Harry's going places, I can tell!''

''Staring to sound a little like James now, Padfoot,'' Remus murmured fondly.

Sirius huffed, uncaring if he did and he waltzed about the dorm in just in boxer briefs. James had been just as impressed, if not more so, with the results of their brief yet friendly game of Quidditch this afternoon. Even Lily, less obsessed with the sport, could appreciate their young charge's obvious talent with catching the Snitch so soon. After all, Harry, for a Muggle-raised yet magically-tutored eleven-year-old, had immense skill.

If only, Sirius' inner Captain whimpered, if only the boy was staying for a whole year, maybe McGonagall would've let him have Harry as their Gryffindor Seeker…

Sighing wistfully, the young Black continued to rub his hair dry with a towel, his eyes drifting to the window. The view of gloomy, early-evening skies greeted him, and he felt his mind drift. For a weekend, Saturday had turned out beyond well minus the weird, simmering tension Remus was giving off. He didn't know what was going on with his friend, knowing that his 'time of the month' was a good three weeks away, but it was unsettling. Very rarely Remus would get sullen; stressy and a little snappy, yes, but never sullen. Yet there the taller male was, reclining on his own bed doing homework, a brooding expression pinching his features.

He opened his mouth, ready to ask the werewolf what was going on – until the dormitory door bumped open.

Distracted, Sirius looked up at the empty doorway, the clinking of goblets and heavy breathing hinting only one, invisible person. He didn't have to wait long for verification; Peter shook off James' Invisibility Cloak, his chubby frame and the goodies he was currently waddling in with revealed. Sirius beamed at his fellow Animagus and flung his towel aside to grab a hold upon the huge pitcher of ice cold pumpkin juice.

''Nice one, Wormy!'' Sirius cheered.

Remus seemed to perk up, too. Both in mood and attention. ''Got anything good, Pete?''

The blond nodded at the levitating tray filled to the brim with an array of nibbles. ''Y-yeah, chicken strips, sandwiches, quiche and some cake,'' he rattled off, setting the items upon the rug. ''Some other stuff, too. House-elves got a bit enthusiastic. Think I got enough food?''

''Aye,'' Sirius beamed, pleased. ''Plenty for us four anyways.''

''That's chocolate cake, right?'' the werewolf peered over his homework.

''Yeah, Moon – wait,'' Peter paused, eyes confused. ''_Four_ of us?''

Sirius nodded, a huff leaving him at the small male's forgetfulness as he picked up James' cloak. He went about stuffing the item into his best friend's trunk, mindful of keeping one of the Marauders many secrets hidden. As much as he loved Harry, there were some things the kid wasn't privy to know, yet. But, honestly, didn't Peter remember why Sirius had sent him off on a food raid?

It was bad enough that Peter forgot to use their Map during such a food run, but Sirius had told him. Hell, James had told them all he wouldn't be back until much, much later. The Head boy had mentioned 'prefect duties' with Lily, but Sirius knew. The only duties those two would be doing would involve snogging and, maybe if Prongs was lucky, a sly –

''You, Sirius, Harry and I,'' Remus reminded the smallest teen.

''Oh…''

Pausing mid-tap of his wand over James' trunk, Sirius finished in locking the item and raised an eyebrow. Peter…Peter didn't sound too happy. He didn't need to see his fair-haired friend to know some recent development had disappointed him. Looking over his bare shoulder, he split his attention between his two friends and immediately spotted the return of Remus' downturned lips and creased brow.

''I'm thinking of a gentlemen's night in,'' Sirius cajoled the pair. He felt a little lost over their moods and, in a bid of easing the tension, began his persuasion with a cheeky grin. ''Dinner in the dorms, plan a few pranks, exploding snap,'' he wagged his eyebrows at Remus, ''maybe some cheeky shots of whiskey when a certain Prongslet is tucked up in bed?''

''You incorrigible sod,'' the werewolf lightly chuckled.

His action eased up Moony's mood, at least. It was just a shame Peter, for once, wasn't taking the bait.

''Where is Porter?''

''Harry,'' Remus' grumpy tone was back, ''is in the shower.''

What…? Was there something…? _Ah._ Sirius narrowed his eyes, things finally clicking together. Moony had always had a soft spot for ickle firsties and Peter's rude aloofness towards Harry was becoming more evident right now with Lily absent. Their dear Wormtail had been a little off since the return to Hogwarts after summer, something Sirius had shrugged aside, until now.

Standing up and idly scratching his stomach, Sirius glanced towards the bathroom door. Good. HarBear was still scrubbing himself clean. The shower was audible through the closed door, meaning words shouldn't be overheard. With that reassurance in mind, Sirius regarded his long-time friend before asking, rather bluntly.

''What's up with you and Harry, Pete?''

The plump boy gaped; his watery eyes widening. ''N-Nothing!'' Peter squeaked. ''It's just…''

''Just…?'' Remus pressured, his voice softer, more understanding. That, Sirius noted, was the Moony he knew.

''K-kids don't like me, I guess,'' Peter replied, a titter of self-depreciative laughter caught in the back of his throat.

That was it? Sirius let out a bark-like laugh and threw the nearest thing – a silver pair of Tail-Twig Clippers from James' Broomstick servicing kit – at Peter. The male flinched, startled and looking every inch like a fish out of water. Sirius didn't care, he felt light and amused at such a ridiculous confession. He flopped down in his undies on the end of the werewolf's bed and beamed at Remus' relieved expression before looking at Peter's uneasy, awkward stance.

''Wormy, you absolute plonker,'' Sirius said. ''Harry likes you, so don't worry about other kids.''

* * *

James ascended the stairs to his dorm with a spring in his step and a giddy flutter in his stomach.

It was late, way past curfew and creeping past midnight. Exhausted, the seventeen-year-old smiled to himself as he thought back on his Saturday, mainly his early evening. Maybe absconding his girlfriend into an old, abandoned classroom hadn't been the best idea to begin with. Lily had been a little stand-offish at first, her mind jumping to the conclusion that he had _other_ things planned over such drastic privacy. But no, James wasn't like that, he wasn't like his lovable yet womanizing friend, Sirius.

He, as a Potter, was a tad old fashioned when it came to dating; possibly something his father instilled into him. Just because he and Lily were clicking exceedingly fast emotionally didn't mean he'd be rushing to do anything further so soon. A few fumbles and heated snogging sessions were just fine right now, thank-you-very-much. Besides, the girl had been somewhat flabbergasted upon discovering his true agenda: a meal prepped by house-elves and alone time. In retrospect, the dim, dusty room wasn't the best place for romance, but Lily had liked his effort of conjuring a few candles, providing food and a large, comfy blanket upon the floor.

_''Bit like an indoor picnic, isn't it?_'' had been her exact words upon his explanation.

Even now, when recalling her smile and kiss-flushed features, James felt ten-feet-tall. It was a shame the body required sleep; he could've spent an eternity twirling her fiery-locks around his fingers and chatting about everything and anything with her. Alas, his bed called for him. The crick in his neck from their lengthy kissing session and ache in his lower back from being seated on the floor both screamed for the softness of his bed. So, it was with a sigh of relief and contentment, that James entered his shared room.

Padding softly across the wooden floor, he avoided tripping over strewn goblets, books and playing cards splayed across the rug. All his friends seemed to be snoring away, dead to the world and, with a fond smile, James went over to his trunk. After snagging a pair of pajama bottoms, he made his way to the bathroom to go through his usual nightly rituals before slinking back into the bedroom.

''Good night?'' a sleep-laced voice asked.

Adjusting his glasses, James knew who the speaker was already. There was only one light-sleeper with hearing sensitive enough to pick up his near-silent movements in their dorm, Remus. He spotted the willowy werewolf's amber eyes glowing like a neon beacon in the darkness.

''Hey,'' he whispered, ''my night was ace. How 'bout yours?''

Remus closed his eyes, snuffling against his pillow. ''Was good. Then Padfoot got drunk.''

''Alright then,'' James sniggered. ''Go back to sleep, Moons.''

His friend dozed back off, burrowing deeper under the duvet and leaving James to peer about the dorm. He spotted Sirius upon his own bed, curled up around a bottle of fire whiskey and broke into a grin. Moving further across the room, the sound of Peter's heavy snores became louder upon his approach to his own bed. Idly, James found himself looking towards the other bed, the one that housed their youngest roommate, Harry Porter. Smiling, the teenager peered down at the boy in question and pressed his lips together to keep his chuckle locked away.

The boy had wormed down the mattress in his sleep, the blankets kicked aside and legs tangled in the material. Even the leg of the kid's pajama bottoms had rucked up, revealing a skinny leg and a knobbly knee that could match James' father's own knees. The sight of Harry blissfully asleep was, dare he admit it, adorable. It was such an eerily paternal thought that he shook it aside, barely thinking twice about ducking down and fixing the duvet; it was cold tonight and Harry was so…

Small, James thought.

He was in the middle of tucking the quilt around the youth when it really hit him. Harry did look small. Just like Friday, James found himself staring with narrowed eyes. The kid looked smaller again – no, younger. Yet, James mused, everyone looked younger when asleep and Harry, with his rounded features and skinny limbs, looked young for eleven anyway. Nevertheless, he affectionately smoothed back his charge's wild hair, uttered a soft, ''night'' and left him be.

Ignoring the niggle of _something _at the back of his mind, James dropped down onto his own bed, thinking. Harry had been one of the key topics he and Lily had talked about tonight, amongst other things. The enigmatic boy was such a rarity to the point you couldn't help but to be drawn to him. It was so confusing but it didn't matter and, yawning, James closed his eyes, slipping into sleep…

…until, what felt like mere minutes later, he heard a hushed voice.

It was panicky and high-pitch and choked out a, ''Da-'' before continuing, ''J-James. James I…I…''

Half-asleep, the young man grunted at the noise and rolled onto his stomach. He was barely awake enough to realize it was _his_ name being called. It was only when he could feel a small, bony finger prodding his shoulder that he cracked open an eye. Dreary, early morning light had lit up the bedroom enough to make him wince and also hint at several hours of sleep he had gained. Either way, it didn't matter, not when that persistent, unfamiliar voice continued to call his name and –

Oh. Wait. James did know that voice. It was a new enough voice that it was unfamiliar to his sleep-fuzzed mind, but he did recognize it.

''Harry?'' he all but groaned.

''Y-You're awake?

Pushing himself up onto his elbows, James felt a bit more alert at the stuttering, panicky voice. The dorm was still silence and the kid was speaking so quietly that, briefly, James found his mind spinning to the darkest of places over Harry sounding so frantic. In these dark times of Voldemort's attempts at control, anything could happen. Poor vision be damned, he snaked a hand to his wand beneath his pillow and looked towards the small, blurry shape kneeling on his bed.

''What's wrong?'' he asked in a low tone.

Harry didn't reply straight away, but James could see him squirm and shift. The young man was about to snap at the child, ask him to answer immediately, when he heard the tell-tale sign of normality and safety: Peter's warthog-like snore. Less tense, James resisted the urge to drop his face back into his pillow and, instead, continued to squint at Harry. He really should stretch over to his nightstand and get his glasses, but with his adrenaline rush gone, he felt sleepier than ever. Besides, James noted, the kid looked okay.

In fact, from the fuzz of colors and shapes his myopic gaze picked up on, Harry wasn't even in his pajamas. By the looks of things, Harry was wearing one of his new polo-shirts James had picked out and the pair of corduroy trousers.

''No,'' Harry spoke in a mortified wail. ''Something's wrong. I woke up and…something is wrong with me.''

Eyebrows rising, James felt a proverbial _Lumos_ cast above his head.

Thoughts ran into each other like a domino effect: Harry is eleven, Harry has changed his clothes, Harry woke up in a panic saying something is wrong with him. It all led to one, albeit embarrassing yet natural, conclusion.

''It's fine, you're just an early bloomer,'' he half-yawned to the boy. ''Wet drea –''

''Wet what?!'' Harry interjected with a hiss.

James closed his mouth with an audible clip.

Sounded like the kid was oblivious of certain horrors of approaching puberty at the moment. Though, with that in mind, James was baffled as to why Harry was in such a state. Huffing, the young man sat up and reached for his glasses. Once the shiny, quality frames were slipped onto his face, the world came back into focus. He lazily rubbed at his head, silently mourning that he wouldn't be going back to sleep and looked over at – Harry.

But not just any Harry. No, no. This was a Harry wearing one of the outfits they had bought yesterday. Except, well, such an outfit didn't look like the perfectly sized one Lily had made the boy try on. 'Cause, right now, the clothing Harry wore looked a little on the baggy side, the jeans the most notable of all with the way they pooled around his ankles. Confused, James reached out to finger the short-sleeve of the shirt. It was soft; the cotton material no longer skimming Harry's mid-arm but, instead, hanging past his bony little elbow. It was almost like someone had enlarged the boy's clothes an extra size or two.

Was this…was this a prank?

''James…''

Hearing his name, he looked away from the clothing and into the young face. No way was this a joke. The kid was either a good actor or simply on the verge of tears. James decided it was the latter. After all, it was barely noticeable at first glance, the loss of height being the most notable. Yet, upon closer inspection, Harry's face did look a tad rounder, making him look _younger._

Almost like he did last night, James internally added.

''Bloody hell, kiddo,'' James said, unable to help himself. He was at a loss and, with the way Harry was being so quiet and warily eying his sleeping roommates, he supposed waking them up wouldn't be good. Merlin knew the kid looked panicky enough. ''Its fine,'' he tried to sound convincing. ''Don't you worry, HarBear.''

Who he was convincing, himself or Harry, he didn't know.

Getting up off his bed, James stepped into his shoes and pulled on his dressing gown, uncaring what he looked like. ''C'mere,'' he said, offering a hand to the boy. ''Let's…'' he swallowed, gathering his nerves. ''Let's get you to the Madam Pomfrey. Yes, that'll be best. She can fix this.''

''I have shrunk,'' Harry whimpered, clearly in shock. ''You said it…and I am.''

Cringing at the memory, the teenager silently wondered if Harry had been losing inches and possible age this whole time. He pushed such thoughts aside, inwardly telling himself to inform Pomfrey of his suspicions. Instead, James occupied himself at grasping Harry's hand – smaller, but not drastically so, to the hand it had shook for the first time a few days ago – and leading the way out.


	6. Chapter 6

**AN: **_Speculation around Harry's 'condition' is in the summary, you'll have to wait and see the results. Hope you all enjoy and, most of all, thank you as always._  
**Disclaimer:** _I don't own anything. All belong to darling J.K Rowling.  
__  
_

**A Tumble through Time:**

**Getting to Know You.**

''Good gracious, Mr. Porter. You can't honestly think I'd believe in such a thing as spontaneous shrinkage, can you?''

The irate, matronly question from Poppy Pomfrey reached Albus' ears before he entered the Hospital Wing. If he knew the Mediwitch well, like he assumed he knew most his staff, he could only assume the woman was less angry, more worried over her patient. Poppy could always come across as brisk with words and strict with attitude, but it was clear the woman cared deeply. It was no small wonder she was sounding at her wits end, her rushed Floo call to his office disturbing his early morning routine.

Nonetheless, the Headmaster came immediately at her call, torn between sheer intrigue and concern. Not much had been explained via the Floo but, the moment Poppy mentioned the name Harry Porter, Albus jumped at the chance. He had been waiting for something to happen to his Time-Travelling guest; the foreign, unidentifiable magic clinging to the boy had to affect the child in some way. Personally, he had been expecting haywire magic or something similar. However, upon his entry of the ward, it became clear the unknown power had affected Harry more physically.

''I didn't do anything!'' Harry's offended response echoed about the empty room.

Albus peered around the privacy screen to where such a ruckus was emitting from just in time to see Poppy huff and James Potter wince. The Head boy looked fresh out of bed, his pajama bottoms, sloppily tied dressing gown and scuffed dress shoes proving an amusing sight. That is, until the aging Wizard set his blue eyes upon the teenager's unknown son – Harry. The child didn't look wholly different, not at first glance but, upon stepping closer, the noticeable size difference became apparent.

''Raised voices at such an unearthly hour?'' Albus spoke up, his tone light.

The trio spun at him immediately, a mixture of expressions crossing their features yet all equaling the same; relief. Smiling, Albus could only ease his way forward and continue to regard the Time-Displaced Potter. He hadn't wanted to worry the child during their chat last Friday but, looking at the boy now, he felt guilty. Harry was all but leaning against his father's side from their seated location upon the crisp, white bed. It was saddening, in a way, how both James had curled an arm over his son's shoulders and how the child looked terrified at being ripped away.

Not that Harry had to worry, Albus mused. They boy wouldn't be going sooner or later if his research continued at the pace it was going now. He had offered the boy three months and, unless something came along, the boy wouldn't be going anywhere even when three months were up. Oh, he hadn't out right lied to Harry; he was still waiting on more information. But material surrounding the Mirror of Erised was limited. No matter how far he delved, only the most basics of information was available and, even then, they lacked any mention of Time Travel.

Sighing softly, he switched his focus to the school's Mediwitch. ''What seems to be the issue, Madam?''

''Like it isn't obvious?'' James scoffed.

''Potter –'' Poppy looked ready to scold the Head boy until as Albus waved her off. ''Right,'' she continued, awkward yet frazzled at the early wake up. ''As I was going to say, Albus. Young Mr. Porter appears to be withholding information about his –'' she gestured at the child ''- situation.''

''I see,'' he hummed. ''And what exactly are you withholding from our dear Mediwitch, Harry?''

''Nothing!'' the boy squeaked.

And Albus, knowing the full extent of the entire situation, believed him.

Without a doubt the unknown, magical effects of Time Travel played a key part to this outcome. However, Poppy wasn't one of the select few who knew of Harry's true heritage or story. Only he and McGonagall knew of the truth, something Albus planned to keep that way. Still, having an audience made things difficult; he could hardly tell Harry his theories in the presence of Poppy and James. Sending the two outsiders away wasn't an option either, he knew how James Potter's mind worked: give the young man a hint of mystery and he'd sniff out some answers. It was an admirable trait yet, right now, it was more an inconvenience.

Nevertheless, Albus knew that Harry was an intelligent boy. He made a show of straightening his beard and eying the small child over the rim of his spectacles. It was only several beats of silence, yet it was enough time to concoct a reliable backstory to both Poppy and James. Hopefully, the Headmaster wished, Harry would understand where he was going with this...

''I don't believe that is true, is it, my boy?'' he began smoothly. Both James and Harry had near identical expressions of frustration, a protest almost leaving the latter's lips, when Albus continued. ''Did you not tell Madam Pomfrey of your accident from playing with potions back at home?''

Green eyes blinked up at him. Silent and utterly baffled.

''Maybe your _current predicament_ is from your _accident?_'' Albus said, blunt enough for the child yet vague enough for others. ''Remember?'' he urged. ''Your tutor wasn't very impressed with you…''

Eventually, those eyes glinted with understanding. ''Oh!'' Harry sat upright, surprise genuine. ''You think that this is because I –?''

''Yes, yes,'' he hastily interjected. No need for any slip-ups. ''It seemed that exploded potion wasn't as harmless as we thought.''

''Exploded potion?'' Poppy parroted back. ''Dear Merlin, Mr. Porter, when on earth did this happen?''

''Uh…'' the child floundered briefly. ''L-Last few days of summer, ma'am.''

''What was in it?'' James asked. ''Is it reversible?''

He could quite easily rattle off a few ingredients but, knowing Poppy would suggest a counter potion of some sort, Dumbledore shook his head. Not knowing what they were dealing with, adding potions into the mix of whatever magical reaction was happening to Harry would be a last resort.

''What was in such a mix, we'll never know,'' Dumbledore lied. ''Besides,'' he added truthfully, ''it would be best to let the lingering effects run their course. I don't believe a lack of height in life threatening…''

''But he looks younger, too,'' the Head boy interjected sharply.

Harry looked as if he had been burned. ''No I don't. I'm just smaller. Shrunk. I'm still eleven, y'know.''

''Is that so?'' Albus found himself murmuring. He felt doubtful.

''Well, only one way to verify that, young man,'' Poppy chimed in, wand at the ready.

Letting the Mediwitch do her work, Albus remained silent as the woman flicked her wand above Harry's messy head of hair. The incantation was short and sweet, a slightly more advanced age reveal that, luckily enough, wouldn't show a person's date of birth. The result was a row of shimmering, smoky lettering and numbers above Harry's head, announcing the boy's age as: _10 years, 2 months and 22 days old._

A cold weight settled in Albus' stomach at such a sight.

Previous conversations and small, stashed away facts came to the forefront of Albus' mind. Harry had arrived in this era having left his first Christmas at Hogwarts, an estimation of Harry being four or five months into being eleven-years-old. Yet now, the boy had significantly lost over a year in a short stint since his arrival, and that wasn't good. Not good at all.

After all, Albus noted, it was one thing to have Harry shrinking, it was completely another to have the boy getting younger and younger and…

Internally, he shook negativities aside. Both Potter's and Poppy looked astonished, Harry even more so. The child was pale and stunned, his small hands wringing the hem of his polo-shirt. Forcing a calm, reassuring smile upon his features, Albus dropped a hand upon Harry's shoulder in silent reassurance. Giving the small, bony shoulder blade a light squeeze, he couldn't bring forth any promises he couldn't keep and, instead, settled with stating the obvious:

''Leave it to me. We'll be keeping have to keep a very, very close eye upon the progression of this.''

* * *

It was still early, barely past nine in the morning, when Lily made her way up to her boyfriend's dormitory.

Like most Sundays, most students seemed to be sleeping in or devouring a large breakfast in the Great Hall. So it was no wonder, really, why Gryffindor Tower was relatively silent. Nevertheless, this lull in activity didn't matter, not when she felt her insides boil with frustration. She was furious, partly with Dumbledore and mainly with Harry, upon learning of what her charge had done over the summer.

To think, an eleven-year-old, being allowed to mess about with ingredients volatile enough to de-age him made her rage. James had recounted this morning's early events to her a few hours prior and, no matter how many deep breaths or long walks she had taken, Lily couldn't calm down. She had always had a bit of a temper and, despite being mature, she often found it getting the best of her during dangerous outcomes and impassioned debates.

Even now, as she eased her way into the messy domain of the Marauders, hearing about Harry's sheer recklessness sent her temper boiling. Face heating, Lily had plans to talk to her foolish charge; tell him off a little bit and highlight the dangers of unsupervised potion making. In fact, she was several steps away from Harry's bed where the boy resided, a fiery rant on the tip of her tongue when the tufts of black hair peeking out from the blanket shifted and –

All pent up anger and worry dispersed at the sight of wide, solemn green eyes peeping over the top of the blanket.

Goodness, he did look younger, Lily noted. Even from the small portion of Harry's face she could tell that. James and the others also said their youngest member had lost height, as expected with his lack of age. Although, curled up in bed, Lily couldn't tell how much smaller Harry was right now. Either way, the Head girl felt deflated and moved past a snoring James and towards Harry's bed.

''You mad at me, too?'' the question was muffled by the quilt.

''A little,'' Lily admitted softly.

Harry instantly disappeared beneath the blanket, surprising her.

Not wanting to wake her boyfriend, she moved closer and sat gently down at the end of Harry's bed. It was clear a certain someone was sulking, undoubtedly not liking the lecture he had received from Remus. Peter had been particularly vocal at breakfast, sniggering as he quoted Remus' chiding words towards Harry. The werewolf in question looked a tad guilty, always the soft-hearted one, until Sirius brightened the atmosphere. Clearly, all of them, minus Peter's amusement, found Harry's actions over the summer worrisome in some way.

It also got Lily thinking about Harry's home environment; leaving her to wonder what type of guardians or tutor would shrug aside an exploding potion. She was aware the child was orphaned, living with his Aunt and Uncle who, despite not liking magic, allowed the boy to be tutored. Harry's whole home situation sounded a bit awry and, in spite of clicking with Harry, something didn't entirely sit right with her about the boy as a whole…

Sighing, Lily shifted her focus back to the now, her eyes shifting – only to land on James. He was bare chested and snoring, sprawled on his bed in a set of thin pajama bottoms that made her face heat. Momentarily distracted at the sight of her delectable boyfriend, she barely noticed Harry peeping out from behind the blanket. It was only when she caught herself, flushing further, did she turn her attention back to Harry who was no longer hiding and, apparently had been looking between herself and an oblivious James.

For a few beats, she simply stared back at Harry. The boy didn't look drastically younger but, according to James, only a year or so had been deducted from Harry's age. Nevertheless, with the, now, ten-year-old visible, Lily could see how big his recently purchased clothes currently were. It seemed some Transfiguration would be in order today.

''D'you think he's still mad at me?'' Harry piped up.

Relieved at having the silence broken, Lily slipped her shoes off and tucked her feet underneath her on the bed. ''Remus?'' she murmured back, ''no. No, Remus rarely gets mad, only worried.''

Harry pulled a face. ''Not Remus –''

''He means me,'' a deep, sleepy voice interjected.

Swiveling her head towards the voice, Lily spotted her boyfriend still on the bed. He looked every inch asleep, flat on his back and his eyes still closed. If she didn't know it was James speaking given the quirk of his lips, she would've thought the others had returned from breakfast.

''What?'' Lily asked, astounded. James was mad with Harry? Over this? She knew her boyfriend had changed but, surely, the Head boy would've been like Sirius by finding some amusement in the situation.

''He called me stupid,'' Harry informed, hurt.

_That_, Lily realized, got James to snap open one myopic, hazel eye.

''No, I didn't call you stupid,'' he corrected, firm yet gentle; a tone Lily had never heard before. ''I said what you did was stupid. You could've poisoned yourself or, worse.''

The young male ducked his head, slinking back under the quilt with a huff while James let out a jaw cracking yawn. Torn between what to do, Lily looked towards her sleep rumpled boyfriend. She doubted James had been too harsh in his reprimand. But still…

''He's got your furball under there,'' James chuckled. ''It followed him up, he's been cuddling it like you did that time Binns gave you a low mark in fifth year.''

Ignoring the comment about her reaction to an unfair marking scheme, Lily sniffed. ''He is called Pip.''

James shrugged, sitting up and reaching for his glasses. Lily, on the other hand, shuffled further up Harry's bed and peeled back the quilt. At first, she could barely see where her moggy was, until Harry shifted. Only then did she spot the black and white fur nestled against the boy's side, and smiled. Pip was so docile, more a ragdoll than a cat with the way he flopped about and accepted hugs – even to strangers, like Harry.

She barely heard Harry's awed whisper to the cat, ''maybe that's why you seem familiar. You might've been around when…''

''He is always in the common room,'' Lily supplied, only to watch Harry jolt. He blinked up at her, surprised, almost as if he hadn't meant to mutter his previous comment. ''That might be why he's familiar,'' she elaborated. ''Pip is a part of the Gryffindor furnishings.''

''Like, literally, apart of the furnishings,'' James' jovial tone came closer. ''Last time I let that beast on my robes, I had to get some new ones. His hair…it wouldn't come out, no matter – ''

A sudden silence, aside from Pip's rumblings, filled the room. Lily stopped smiling down at Harry, noticing the mild scowl on his features. Looking to the side, she spotted James standing beside the youngest Gryffindor's bed, a pout on his face. It was a false expression, one meant to be more comical in its pathetic nature than anything else. A giggle almost escaped her, almost, until she spotted what had stopped James in both speech and movement – a foot.

Harry's foot; small and clad in a too big yet garishly colored sock. It was pressed against James' upraised thigh from where the older male had knelt upon Harry's mattress, a little ways beside her. James was undoubtedly in the process of joining them despite his half-naked appearance and would've been sitting down, had it not been for Harry's foot stopping the action.

''HarBear,'' James whined with false hurt.

''You're not allowed.''

Taken aback, both at Harry's action and grumpy attitude, Lily did let out a small huff of laughter. She couldn't help it, not when Harry looked so serious and James looked, genuinely, shocked. After all, the boy in which James and herself felt protective over had been a cheerily polite, shy little thing. But, now, well…Harry sounded downright petulant with a teasing undertone.

Clearly, Lily thought with a snicker, the Marauders banter was rubbing off on the boy.

Her boyfriend, however, didn't seem to catch on. ''You really are sulking aren't you? I didn't even shout,'' James' voice went up in pitch, defending himself. ''Lily, I didn't mean to upset him I – '' he paused, catching her smile. ''Lily…?''

''Harry's winding you up, you idiot,'' Lily laughed, lightly slapping James' bare arm.

''Eh?''

''Look at that face,'' she inclined her head towards Harry's poorly disguised smile. ''He's winding you up.''

James brightened at the news. ''Oh-ho, are you now?'' he beamed.

The youngest of the trio let loose a giggle. ''Yeah, stupid."

Lily narrowly avoided getting knocked off the bed at James' response; the Head boy dived forward, catching Harry's offending foot and tugging him further down the bed. Pip nearly got squashed, managing to leap to Lily's side as Harry rolled away and James' clambered up beside her. The pair seemed to be play fighting, although James was unusually gentle, opting to encompass Harry's skinny frame in a bear hug as opposed to the usual punches and headlocks she had seen him partake in with Sirius. Either way, Lily grinned at it all, joining in with tugging off one of Harry's bright, ill-fitting socks and tickling the slightly clammy sole.

The shriek-like, peal of laughter that came from Harry's lips followed, and James nearly found himself on the receiving end of an accidental head butt. The Head boy let go of his captive after that, ruffling Harry's hair and lightly knocking him aside.

It was nice and, perhaps, somewhat interesting to see another element of Harry's personality. Never once had she thought the boy would sulk, assuming the previous behavior came down to worry, not James' mild telling off. Then again, she couldn't help but wonder if Harry was simply becoming more comfortable with them, or was this a new development via his physical regression?

Not that such questions could be answered, not now. But it did make her all the more curious about –

James plopped his head into her lap, getting comfy. Lily rolled her eyes, distracted as her hands automatically went to card through James' soft, unruly locks as she sent Harry a soft smile. The ten-year-old was flopped near the headboard, across the pillows, looking far happier than he did upon her first entry. She was about to suggest heading to the Great Hall for a late breakfast when she felt James' voice vibrated through her folded legs.

''Up to reckless mischief, pretending I've upset you and calling me an idiot,'' listed the Head boy. He barked out a laugh. ''Padfoot will be pleased!''

The boy blushed, bashful. ''You're not really stupid, y'know.''

''I don't know about that, Harry,'' Lily playfully added. ''He can be a bit thick at times…''

''No, Wormy is the thick one,'' James said, smiling up at her.

Lily opened her mouth, ready to admonish him, until Harry cut in. ''Why d'you call each other that?''

''Just nicknames,'' the Potter swiftly responded. He closed his eyes, relishing in Lily's fingers idly playing with his hair while the young woman in question internally cringed. She could see it; the furrowed brow of deep thought upon Harry's features. James' quick response obviously didn't help matters, she could tell Harry was an intuitive little lad, undoubtedly sensing there was more to it than 'just nicknames'. Still, Lily found it a small wonder Harry hadn't asked such a question upon first hearing the nickname 'Prongs'.

''I'd hate to be called Wormtail,'' Harry said. ''Peter doesn't really have worm-like tail, does he?''

The Head girl smothered a laugh as James' eyes shot open. Harry seemed unfazed by the incredulous looks sent his way, merely shrugging. Lily swallowed the urge to laugh, focusing on trying to change the topic; only to come up short.

''My friend gave my cousin a pig tail,'' the boy absently continued. He wasn't even looking at them anymore as he, seemingly, thought aloud. ''What about Sirius' feet? Are they normal? Or is it 'coz he's got pads on his feets?''

Biting her lip, the red-head glanced down at James. Her boyfriend was working his jaw, not in anger, but mulling something over. She hoped it wasn't what she was thinking. As much as she was growing attached to Harry, she didn't think it would be wise to tell him about certain things, especially becoming Animagi. Children always had a habit of saying things by accident, and one little slip-up from Harry speaking to a Professor and James would find himself in deep trouble…

And that was all before explaining why they became Animagi and revealing Remus' werewolf dilemma.

''The boys call you HarBear, it doesn't have to mean anything,'' Lily began, attempting to save the situation.

That is, only to have James sit up and shake his head at her, a decision made. ''But _my_ name does have meaning,'' James said. ''Just me, though, the rest are just nicknames like yours or Lils,'' he lied, and Lily hoped he knew what he was doing. ''I'll only show you why if you promise –''

''I promise!'' Harry interrupted, clearly excited.

James shared a look with her, more a glance, really. It was an expression of fond exasperation mingled with underlying pride. Lily rolled her eyes and, strangely enough, went with the flow of events. She worried for her boyfriend but, she also trusted Harry. Besides, James had made a point of not including his friend's extra abilities so, surely, it would be okay.

Plus James did look kind of eager to show off.

''Alrighty, then,'' the Head boy slid off the bed and stepped into the center of the room. ''Now, this is a secret, so –''

''I'm amazing at keeping secrets,'' Harry beamed, mid-crawl to the end of his bed for a better view. ''What are you gonna do? I mean, Prongs…you don't have things sticking outta you, do you?!''

Laughing, Lily tapped the boisterous youth on the nose. ''Settle down, nosey.''

''Sorry. I didn't…sorry.''

''Stop apologizing, you nutter,'' James chuckled. ''Lils, love, keep a hold of that cat of yours. I don't want it freaking out and getting trampled by my hooves.''

''Hooves?!'' Harry squeaked.

Grabbing a hold of Pip, Lily appreciated the extra precaution as she settled her pet in her arms. She gave James a nod and, in a matter of moments, watched her boyfriend's form shiver, melt and morph into something entirely different. Having seen the Animagus transformation before, she subtly watched Harry out the corner of her eye as James went from being human to a regal, powerful-looking stag. Lips twitching, she leaned against the bed post, watching Harry go from excitedly kneeling on the mattress to standing upon his trunk, openly gawking.

''Like McGonagall,'' the child breathed, nearly toppling forward for a closer look.

''You've seen the Professor's Animagus form?'' Lily asked, surprised.

Harry seemed guilty of something, before nodding. ''Umm, once,'' he mumbled, his attention flitting between a patiently standing stag and herself. ''Is that what it is? An Anmahgus?''

''Animagus,'' Lily corrected, amused. ''Go closer if you want, he's still James.''

Harry nodded, uncertain, as he stepped off his trunk and eased his way towards James' furry form. The interaction between two was one Lily found herself enjoying to witness; it something she couldn't wholly describe. She could only assume it was the sight of James being mature and sweet to someone else other than her that made her feel that way. Well, that and the fact Harry was being cute again – something which now seemed amplified with him lacking a year's worth of age.

Plus, there was the small fact that Harry was kind of looking up at James like some reverent idol right now.

The boy didn't seem to touch the large stag though, his hands merely hovering uncertainly before dropping to his sides. Those green, bespectacled eyes though, they travelled everywhere. From the bottom of James' gleaming hooves and up and up to the tip of his antlers, Harry seemed to be trying to catalogue everything with twitching hands. Lily was half tempted to step forth, place Harry's hand upon the thicker fur around Prong's neck when the Animagus in question closed the distance and snuffled at Harry's cheek.

''Ick!'' Harry yelped, but didn't move.

It seemed a cold, wet nose was all it took to break the tension; at least that is what it looked like to Lily.

Before she could blink, Harry had gone from timid curiosity to downright hyper enthusiasm. The temporary Gryffindor reached up, small hands petting James' lowered head. She didn't miss the way, even in his animal form, James seemed distracted by something as he intently began nosing Harry's hair and neck. Whatever it was, the Head girl wished to know but, for now, resigned to laughing into the fur atop Pip's head, watching James patiently put up with petting and poking from a child who barely reached the stag's shoulder height.

''Now I get it now,'' the youth announced, fingers dancing across the smooth antler bone. ''S'why you're called Prongs. Cool.''

''Harry,'' Lily beckoned. She didn't want to ruin the fun but... ''Remember it's a secret. Only the others and I know. And you could get James into a lot of trouble if anyone found out.''

''Like locked away for years type of trouble,'' James added, no longer a stag, catching both Lily and Harry by surprise.

Harry swiveled his head to look up at the tall male, a soft noise of disappointment leaving his mouth.

''What?'' Lily queried, confused. Harry had been so happy and she hadn't been mean but –

''I like James better with a wet nose.''

Lily gave a titter of laughter at Harry's response while James playfully caught the boy's face between his hands, announcing:

''Cheeky git, I should've sneezed on you.''

* * *

It was early evening and Remus was in the middle of enjoying some quiet time in the common room. He had plans of getting ahead of his Herbology assignment and began to write out a proposal for his choice of plant to study for Professor Beery. It was during this, enjoying the soft murmurs of others, the crackle of the fire and scritch of his quill against parchment that he found his peace cut short.

''I'm not letting you copy my notes, Pete, '' the words tumbled out automatically, his eyes not lifting from his work.

''Do _I_ look like a five-foot-five asthmatic, Moony?''

Taken by surprise, Remus looked up. ''James?'' he felt his brow furrow. ''What are you doing back so early? I thought Sirius scheduled Quidditch practice?''

The Head boy shook his head. ''Told them I forgot my broom…which I did, but on purpose.''

''Oookay,'' the werewolf drawled. Something wasn't right. James seemed…_off_. Jittery.

''Listen, it's just a question but,'' James paused, looking about the near-empty common room. ''Right,'' he nodded, seemingly to himself and plonked down onto the coffee table in front of Remus' chair. ''Here's the thing,'' he spoke lowly, ''you've got a good nose on you, right?''

''I suppose.'' Remus wrinkled said nose in question, confused. Where on earth was this all coming from?

''Okay, so, you know how I twisted the truth a little, and Harry met Prongs?''

Nodding, Remus recalled the brief, afternoon discussion they had about their littlest (if not little-er) roommate. Both Lily and James seemed confident in Harry's truthfulness of keeping James' Animagus ability a secret, something Remus was still chewing over. Nevertheless, he did remember one particular element of that conversation which Lily had brought up with laughter.

''Is this about what Lily said?'' Remus wondered, softly. ''You know, something about the way you were practically grazing upon Harry's hair?''

James flushed, eyes going wide. ''Er, no. Well, sorta,'' he cringed, rubbing at the back on his neck. ''He just smelt…''

''Smelt?'' Remus probed. Yeah, the werewolf was truly lost now.

''He just…smelt,'' James unhelpfully continued. ''Like, he smelt like people usually do when I'm Prongs but he smelt, uh, weird.''

''Weird.''

The Potter stiffened, shooting Remus a frustrated glare. ''Can you _please _stop repeating what I said?'' he hissed.

''Sorry,'' Remus told his friend. ''I'm just at a loss as to what you're asking me for.''

''Well, you're…special, Remmy –''

''I'm flattered, James. Really. But you see, you're a taken man now –''

Remus found his dry, witty interjection cut short by a punch to his thigh. Grunting, he rubbed the pain away and scowled at his unusually short-tempered friend. Straightening in his seat, the scarred teenager ignored the light throb in his thigh and let out an explosive sigh.

''Go on then, James.''

An unintelligible grumble left his friend's lips, undoubtedly an insult, before he carried on. ''Basically, does Harry smell different, like, weird, to you?''

''Not really,'' Remus replied, only now understanding James.

It seemed the Head boy was questioning the minor benefits of being a werewolf: improved senses. What brought this on, he didn't totally understand. But still, he shrugged, he hadn't really played much attention to scents as much as he should. The overpowering whiffs of perfumes or potions ingredients had long turned him into ignoring his nose. Although, if he thought about it, Harry didn't smell different. Harry's underlying scent was that of young, a cub, a smell which his wolf identified as something to be looked after…and that wasn't any different that any other first-or-second-year's scent he encountered.

Was it?

Remus self-consciously rubbed at his nose; thinking of focusing on smells had him sniffing them out. Already he could smell the sweat, leather and broom polish that was James Potter. Hell, the werewolf could even catch the vague nip of the other scents – Sirius, Peter, Lily, Harry and himself – lingering about James' person. He snorted, partly at the twitch of his nose and, partly, at the thought of how ingrained they all were with each other.

''Why you asking?'' Remus questioned. ''It could just be the potion in Harry's system. If he's only showing signs of it effecting him now then its probably in his blood. Animals have better noses so, it stands to reason, why he might smell odd.''

''No, no,'' James shook his head. ''Wasn't that. It was like, once Prongs smelt Harry he got all weird like…like…'' he paused, eyes dimming in thought until – he clicked his fingers, eyes gleaming. ''Like Moony does with Padfoot!''

''Excuse me?'' Remus sputtered. ''I – I mean Moony, doesn't get 'all weird' with Padfoot!''

James had the gall to laugh, a condescending look upon his face. ''Yeah, yeah he does, mate.'' He grinned. ''You know, what I mean.''

''I really don't,'' there werewolf shot back, embarrassment tinting his features. He really didn't have a clue.

''Moony see's Padfoot and gets all puppyish,'' James attempted to elaborate. ''He goes from being a grump to, 'let's play, let's play!' and that's kinda how Prongs felt. The second he caught a sniff of HarBear I wanted – I mean Prongs – wanted to goof about.''

Speechless, Remus merely blinked, his face blank. Puppyish? Him? The Big Bad Werewolf? _Reallllly?_

''Okay, so, maybe more than goof about,'' the Head boy amended, and Remus listened. ''Maybe Prongs got a little soppy with the kid. I've never felt it before and I've been an Animagus for almost three years so, surely, its not me, right? Has to be Harry's scent because I've never had to fight the urge to lick and groom and gottakeephimsafe….I'm gonna shut up now.''

''Good thing you didn't do the former, that would've been awkward,'' Remus chuckled. ''And disgusting.''

''Shut up!''

Holding up his hands in defeat, Remus tried to reassure one of his best friends. ''Listen,'' he started, softly, ''maybe you're over-thinking all this? Prongs has never been around kids before, it could be instinct. That's what it's like with Moony.''

''Phew, that's good…I asked Sirius but, when he's Padfoot he licks everything. Plus, he just called me a weirdo.''

''Well, that could be a key contender.''

Remus promptly found his notes transfigured into a squeaky dog toy.


End file.
